


The Sun Rose from the West

by QueenSabriel



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, Gen, alternate storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSabriel/pseuds/QueenSabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam manages to admit his true worries about being Abhorsen-in-Waiting to his parents in the reservoir, and Lirael befriends an unusual visitor to the library, it sets off a chain of events that drastically change the weeks leading up to Orannis' binding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Dad, I…” Sam began hesitantly, and he felt a surge of relief as he finally began to broach the subject he’d stewed on all winter. “Dad, I can’t – I’m so sorry – I can’t be the Abhorsen-in-Waiting.”

There. He had gotten it out. Everything would be alright now, his father would understand, would know how to explain it to Sabriel, would – But Sam did not see understanding on his father’s face, just exhaustion. Touchstone lifted his hand and rubbed his forehead, eyes closing for a moment.

“Sam,” he said, looking at his son again. “I know this is scary, and that it is a lot to ask of you, especially after what you’ve been through. But there is no one else. I need you to do this. Your mother –“ Touchstone surprised Sam by faltering and taking a deep breath before he continued “- Your mother needs you to do this.”

Just like that Sam saw his last chance of reprieve slipping out of his grasp, the faint flare of hope blown out. He felt a thick lump in his throat, and when he tried to speak his words came out as a brief, choked sound. “Dad…”

Touchstone held up his hand. “I’m not discussing this anymore right now. And for Charter’s sake please do not say anything to your mother about it. She’s been through enough today.”

If the look on his father’s face didn’t put an end to the conversation, the sudden appearance of Ellimere did. She hurried over to embrace their father with a smile. “Dad, it’s so good to see you…what’s this about Mother? Where is she?”

“Down in the reservoir,” Touchstone said slowly. He kept one arm around Ellimere and drew Sam in with the other. “Now I don’t want you to get too worried, but…”

* * *

Sam returned to his tower work room, still fretting and distressed. His father's inability to understand, his parent's worry over what was happening in the kingdom and to top it off the letter from Nick only made Sam's anxiety grow worse. He paced his workroom as the night wore on, the city falling asleep and growing darker until only a few Charter lights glowed along the streets. Finally, sometime around midnight he guessed, Sam could not take the sick feeling in his stomach any longer. Clenching his hands so they wouldn’t shake, he padded quietly and quickly back down to the solar.

Down in the reservoir, the barge he and Ellimere had used earlier was waiting at the dock to carry Sam back over the silent waters. It was completely dark down there now, save for a faint glow from the Charter stones that grew brighter as Sam approached. His parents must have taken down the ward, for he could hear the faint murmur of their voices as he drew near.

Nerves made Sam stop the barge for a moment, just out of his parents’ line of sight.

Sabriel was leaning back on her hands, one leg tucked under her, the other – the injured one – out straight so Touchstone could examine it. Unlike before, Sam now had a clear look at his mother’s injury and he had to clasp one hand over his mouth. Even though the healing spells were doing their job, he could see the deep bite and guess just how ugly it had been earlier. His mother’s next comment, which even strained as it was still reached him, only confirmed that thought.

“Add another scar to the list, I suppose.”

Touchstone grunted, marks flaring up under his fingers. “As long as the lasting damage is only superficial, then I’ll be happy. Besides, scars are sexy.”

Sabriel started to laugh, but the sound was cut off in a gasp of pain. “Alright, alright that’s…enough for now, please…”

While Touchstone was draping her cloak around her again, Sam let the barge drift into the circle of light from the stones and the marks burning over his parents’ barge. Hoping he wouldn’t startle them, he cleared his throat.

“Sam?” Sabriel turned to look at him with a small, surprised smile. “You should be asleep, what are you doing down here?”

“I’m _seventeen_ , Mum,” Sam mumbled, just a hint of teenage sullenness slipping into his voice. His barge stopped beside theirs and he crawled over to them. “I just…I need to talk to you.”

Touchstone shifted in a disgruntled sort of manner. He was sitting behind his wife, so Sabriel did not see the stern look he shot Sam. When Sam simply stared back at him he sighed heavily and shook his head. “Sameth…”

“Dad.”

Sabriel glanced between the two of them with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. “Oh, what?”

“Sameth is having some…doubts, about being the Abhorsen-in-Waiting,” Touchstone said finally.

Leave it to his father to lean on a massive understatement. Before Sam could correct his father, Sabriel had reached over and grasped his hand with both of hers. Sam looked down at his mother’s hands; cool, calloused, and like his father’s, scarred from years of fighting. He looked at the identical silver rings she wore on two fingers of her right hand, their rubies shining like droplets of dark blood in the faint light of the reservoir. Sam noticed too with a detached amusement that she had dirt under her fingernails.

“I can’t read _The Book of the Dead_ ,” he said. “It's...it's too much.”

“It is a powerful book,” Sabriel agreed. “But you’ve read parts with me before?”

Sam bit his lip, suddenly crushed under feelings of embarrassment. “I get so scared I feel sick, Mum. When I touch the cover it makes my skin crawl and whenever I try to open it I feel like I’m going to throw up.” It felt as though it took him forever to look back up at her, fully expecting judgment, anger, annoyance...when he did finally meet his mother's gaze, her expression held none of those things. In fact, if anything, she looked worried and almost sad.

Sabriel's eyes were wide, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. She stared at Sam, then slowly wet her lips before looking to Touchstone. He didn't seem any the wiser, however, and fixed Sabriel with the same perplexed look that Sam imagined was on his own face.

"What is it?" Touchstone asked.

" _The Book of the Dead_..." Sabriel began slowly, though she trailed off, releasing her grip on Sam's hand to rub her face. "The Book of the Dead is intended to be read only by Abhorsens. It has safeguards to keep others from reading it, or even from touching it."

Sam realized what she was saying. The book was intentionally making him sick. He realized that should have been a relief; he wasn't supposed to be the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, and no one could force him to be. But when he looked at his mother again he saw an uncharacteristic expression of sheer panic cross her face for a split second before she schooled it in, and that only made him feel worse.

Touchstone clearly understood as well, for he let out a long sigh. "So what do we do?"

"I don't know," Sabriel whispered. They lapsed into silence, Touchstone slowly rubbing Sabriel's back as they thought. The longer the silence drew out however, the worse the pressure in Sam's chest got.

"The bells appeared," he blurted out. "That has to mean something, right?"

Sabriel looked up in surprise, then to Sam's great relief she smiled, reaching out to put her hand to his cheek for a moment. "You're absolutely right. They wouldn't have appeared if someone wasn't ready for them."

"But you don't have any other relatives," Touchstone said uncertainly, still frowning.

"That I know of," Sabriel corrected him. "Centuries ago the family was considerably larger - it's entirely possible that someone alive today has Abhorsen blood in them, some fourth cousin several times removed..."

Touchstone shifted a little, still looking worried. "Alright, but how are you going to find them? If we had more time it might be possible to trace your family's genealogy...but time is not something we have. And as much as I would like to say we could trust in the Charter to bring them to us..."

"I know, I know," Sabriel said. She ran her fingers through her hair. Then, slowly, reluctantly she said, "Perhaps the Clayr have Seen something."

"That seems our best bet," Touchstone murmured, but his shoulders sank and he reached for her hand, holding it to his lips for a moment.

Sam was puzzled by the gesture, and by the looks his parents exchanged, until he realized what this meant. However troublesome going to Ancelstierre would have been, they would have been doing it together. Now his mother would have to go to the Glacier, and his father to the south, and they would be apart again, for Charter knew how long. All because he couldn't live up to his birthright.

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"This is not your fault, Sameth," Sabriel said. She squeezed his hand again. "You are simply not meant for this path."

Sam nodded, but her words did not reassure him. The son of the king and the Abhorsen, and here he was entirely useless, unable to follow either parent.

"You should get back to bed, Sam," Sabriel said after a moment, and this time Sam didn't argue. She leaned over to kiss his forehead, adding, "I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

  
Sam did manage to sleep that night, but it was a troubled sleep, filled with dreams he could not remember. Upon waking he did not feel any better, even when he remembered that his mother would still be here. He dragged himself out of bed and cast a look at his desk where the letter from Nick lay. He wished his friend was there now, if only to have a sympathetic ear. Nick didn't really take after his parents either, despite their wishes, but at least he knew what he wanted to do with his life.

Sabriel and Ellimere were done with breakfast by the time Sam joined them in the solar, but there was still food set out. Sabriel was sitting on one of the cushioned benches by the window, her injured leg propped up on a pillow while she drank a cup of tea. Ellimere sat on a chair next to her, going over a stack of papers.

"Morning sleepyhead," Ellimere said, smirking at her brother.

Sam stuck his tongue out at her, walking over to kiss their mother on the cheek and take some food from the sideboard before sitting with them. "How's your leg?"

"Significantly better," Sabriel said, smiling. "Shemblis said I'll probably be limping for a while, but he thinks letting it heal naturally will ultimately be better than if I'd stayed with the stones all night."

"Did Dad leave already?" Sam asked.

"Just after dawn," Sabriel said. "He wanted to get an early start. And I plan on leaving for the Glacier this afternoon."

Sam made a face. He knew what that would mean: Ellimere was back in charge again. "Can I come with you?"

"I don't think so," Sabriel said after a moment's thought. "It would be better for you to stay here and help your sister."

Both siblings gave each other disgruntled looks, but they knew better than to argue. Ellimere finished her tea and stood up, tucking the stack of papers under her arm. "Well," she said, "I should get downstairs. Some of us actually have work to do."

"You watch your tone," Sabriel said, but she was laughing and gave Ellimere's arm a playful nudge.

"I love you Mum," Ellimere grinned broadly, leaning over to kiss Sabriel's cheek. "Make sure you say goodbye before you leave?"

Sabriel nodded. "Of course sweetheart. I love you too."

Ellimere waved at them before turning to stride out of the solar, shoulders back and chin held high. Sabriel closed her eyes, rolling her neck and shoulders before she smiled at Sam again, though he looked down at his plate and sighed.

"Sorry I turned out to be the failure child."

"Oh." Sabriel clicked her tongue. "You are too much like your father sometimes."

Sam made a face. "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

"He has fits of excessive self-pity as well, and it's just as aggravating."

"Sorry," Sam muttered. Then he realized how cranky he must be sounding and shot his mother an apologetic look. He got to his feet, holding his hand out for her empty cup, then walked over to pour them both more tea.

When he returned, Sabriel shifted so there was room on the bench beside her. "What's bothering you?"

"I'm not doing anything with my life, am I?" Sam asked miserably, though he did sit down. He glanced up and caught the bemused look on Sabriel's face. "I mean...I'm seventeen. I'm only a year younger than you were when you did, well, everything."

"Yes, that's true," Sabriel said. "But if you think that I didn't struggle, or that I should have had to do all that, or that it didn't leave me with a fair amount of lasting problems..."

Sam frowned. "Lasting problems?"

"I lost my father and one of my best friends over the course of a couple weeks," Sabriel said. "I died and came back. I went from being a school girl to a queen. As glamorous as that all might sound if you think that didn't mess with my head a little..."

"You make it look so easy," Sam said with a weak laugh.

Sabriel snorted and shook her head. "Most of this I only realized in retrospect, mind you. I seem to recall telling someone that I was only eighteen on the outside - which is probably the most eighteen-year-old thing I could possibly say. The fact is I was still a teenager. Your father and I made a lot of mistakes when we were starting out. We had a lot of moments where we both felt like we were doing the wrong thing. My point is, Sam, that just because we had to do all of that when we were your age doesn't make you any less important. It just means that we wanted you to have an actual childhood."

"But Ellimere - "

"Is not as in charge as she thinks," Sabriel said with a wry grin. "She is still learning."

Sam smiled weakly, still not entirely convinced. "But...you need help..."

"Yes," Sabriel admitted. "I do. Very much. But you can't be something that you are not."

He nodded, hunching his shoulders. After a moment Sam turned and wrapped his arms around Sabriel, burying his face in her shoulder. She in turn rested her cheek against his hair and held him close, a bit awkwardly due to her injured leg and the fact that Sam was considerably larger than he had been as a child.

_I can't help her_ , he thought. He had been telling himself the same thing all winter, and for some reason finding out that it wasn't just laziness, but that he actually did not have the ability to, made it worse. Sam still felt just as helpless. As he continued to hug his mother, he found his thoughts idly turning to Nicholas' letter. Maybe he couldn't help his mother, but there was still someone stupid enough to need him.

"You'll figure something out," Sabriel murmured, unaware that her son was doing just that very thing. "We all will."


	2. Chapter 2

Late one afternoon while on duty, Lirael was startled to find someone sitting among the back stacks just off the main reading room. They weren’t doing anything wrong; this was still part of the public areas of the library, open to Clayr and visitors alike, but most people chose to do their reading out at one of the tables, or in a comfortable chair. Nevertheless, Lirael rounded a corner and found a woman sitting on the floor, leaning back against one of the shelves while intently absorbed in the book she held.

She appeared to be around forty, with skin even paler than Lirael’s and deep black hair that hung about her shoulders. And though she had a dagger tucked into one boot, and loops on her belt for hanging a scabbard from, the woman’s clothes were too fine to be a traveler, or merchant’s guard. Lirael didn’t know fashion well enough to tell where in the kingdom that sort of dark blue satiny tunic was popular.

“Oh!” The woman started a little when she finally noticed Lirael watching her. “Sorry, I got a bit distracted.” She moved to stand, wincing and clearly struggling to put weight on her right leg. Lirael offered her a hand, and the woman accepted it with a grateful smile. “I really shouldn’t be sitting on the floor like that, the doctor would give me a talking to I’m sure.”

"There are more tables open in the reading room," Lirael said quietly. She felt something odd when she looked at the woman, a strange tugging at the back of her mind as though she knew her from somewhere, but the harder she tried to chase the feeling, the less real it seemed.

The woman made a small dismissive motion with one hand. "There are less people back here."

Lirael smiled involuntarily. That was a feeling she was very familiar with. Then, in her most librarian tone, she asked, "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"Oh..." The woman sighed and looked around at the shelves for a moment. She was unusually tall, Lirael noticed, and even with an injured leg she had a sense of coiled power about her. "A very specific piece of hay in a field of haystacks. But I'm not sure even a Clayr like you could help with that."

Again Lirael found herself smiling, this time because the woman had not hesitated to call her a Clayr.

The woman opened the book she held, flipping to the index in the back. She tapped one title with her fingertip. "Actually, do you think you have a copy of this one? The one in Belisaere's apparently gone missing."

"Probably." Lirael craned her neck and peered at the page. "I think that will be down in the storage tiers...I could put in a request and have it to you tomorrow if you'll still be here."

"I'll be here as long as I need to be," said the woman, tucking her book under one arm.

Lirael nodded. "Then I'll bring it to you tomorrow."

“Thank you.” The woman smiled again, giving Lirael’s shoulder a light squeeze as she walked past. Lirael watched her go, still unable to shake that feeling that some memory was attempting to stir in the back of her mind.

* * *

 

The following afternoon, book in hand, Lirael headed towards the same place in the back stacks with a much more purposeful gait. She realized vaguely that she hadn't asked the woman's name, and was pleased to find her in the same place as the day before, this time perched on one of the stepstools that the librarians used when a Sending wasn't available to reach the higher shelves.

"Well hello again," the woman said, getting to her feet.

Lirael returned her smile, holding the book out with both hands. It was a rather unremarkable volume bound in pale brown leather with the title _A Record of the Great Bloodlines in the Reign of Queen Tathiel I._

"Oh, perfect, thank you!" The woman took the book in one hand, smoothing the other reverentially over the cover. "Hopefully this will have what I need. You know, I realized the other copy was most likely destroyed in the palace fire forty years ago. Thank the Charter nothing like that's happened here, knock on stone."

"It couldn't," Lirael said, though she too frowned at the very idea. "There are too many safeguards against fire, you can't even light a candle in here."

The woman nodded, shifting her weight slightly. "I don't think I caught your name yesterday?"

"It's Lirael."

"Lirael." She smiled again. "And how long have you worked here?"

She had to ponder that a moment. "Four...no, in three days it'll have been five years."

"Five years..." The woman looked impressed, her dark eyes widening a little. "You don't look like you're much older than my daughter...so you were what, fourteen or so when you started? Charter, that's no small feat."

Feeling an unusual surge of pride, Lirael shrugged, then grinned down at her feet.

"Well," the woman laughed - softly, but not unkindly - and put her hand on Lirael's arm for a moment. "I'll let you get back to your work. Thank you, again, this really is a great help to me. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow, Lirael."

This time Lirael managed a soft "Goodbye!" and waved her fingers as the woman strode off. She appeared to be limping a little less today.

* * *

 

Lirael had been worried that the dog might not take so well to finding out she was making a new friend, but on the contrary her canine companion was thrilled, asking all sorts of questions that Lirael couldn’t answer.

“I keep forgetting to ask her name,” Lirael said. “All I know is she has a daughter my age.”

They were sitting on the floor of Lirael's study, the Dog panting happily while her mistress scratched behind her ears. Lirael was thoughtful, still a bit baffled by the guest. Her confusion came from a combination of the fact that the woman actually wanted to talk to her, and also that she was starting to feel more comfortable talking to her.

"How many people have you spoken with that aren't Clayr?" asked the Dog, as though reading Lirael's thoughts. "Besides me."

"In general?" Lirael frowned. "Not many. That still doesn't explain why she wants to talk to me."

"Maybe you remind her of her daughter."

Lirael said nothing, but she did bury her face in the dog's fur, mostly to hide the fact that the idea had made her smile.

* * *

 

On the third day, despite feeling a little nervous, Lirael didn't bother with pretense as she went to see if her new friend would be in the usual spot. Sure enough there she was, and Lirael went to sit next to her. "Did the book have what you were looking for?"

"Yes and no," she said, making a face. "It had useful information, but....well, it was a shot in the dark."

Lirael hugged her knees to her chest, running her thumb absently over the toe of one shoe. "You're studying the great bloodlines aren't you? I don't suppose you've come across anything unusual about the Clayr?"

"Unusual?" The woman tilted her head curiously.

"Like...about Clayr who...who don't have the Sight?"

A long moment of silence stretched out between them. Lirael knew what sort of look the woman was probably giving her, so she kept her gaze on the stone floor. She was just starting to regret even asking when the woman spoke.

"Not specifically, I'm afraid," she said. "However I know that pure Clayr are not the only ones with bits of the Sight. There was a general from Ancelstierre who I met as a girl who had it. Alternately there are Clayr weaker in the Sight than others, so it's fairly logical that some might not have -" She stopped, apparently noticing the expression Lirael's face. "I'm sorry..."

All Lirael got from her words that even Ancelstierrans had the Sight, and they probably didn't even know the Clayr existed. She swallowed thickly, shaking her head and clenching her hands into fists. Now she definitely wished she hadn't asked.

"There's a saying," the woman said quietly, " ' _Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker_?'"

Lirael wiped her eyes, embarrassed, and glanced at her. "What does that mean?"

"A lot of things," she said. "Sometimes the world, or our own mind, convinces us we have a certain role or path in life. And we become so certain of that purpose that if it gets taken away, or if we realize that _wasn't_ our path, it feels as though we have no purpose at all."

Wiping her eyes again, Lirael gave a slow nod, thinking of every birthday she awoke without the Sight, thinking of how hopeless she had felt on her fourteenth birthday in particular.

"No one knows," the woman continued, "If we are the architects of our own path, or if the Charter or some other force chooses it for us. Either way, we all have one. You aren't broken, Lirael, and you aren't a failure. You will find your path sooner or later."

"I won't," Lirael whispered bitterly, knowing full well that was the sort of thing that would get her bitten by the Dog.

"And I can assure you that's not true," the woman murmured. She reached up, tucking a lock of Lirael's dark hair back under her headscarf. "Please believe me on that."

Lirael wanted to. She wanted to more than anything. But this wasn't the first time someone had told her something to that effect, and she had yet to see it proven. Still sniffing a bit, she touched both hands to her head to make sure the rest of her hair was covered. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, not wanting to actually burst into tears.

She wasn't entirely sure how long they sat together, but eventually a distant bell could be heard chiming half past the hour. Lirael shifted, rubbing her face. "Oh, sorry...I really should..." She gestured vaguely, and the woman nodded.

They both got to their feet and started back towards the main reading room together. The woman glanced at Lirael. “You will be alright.”

“I hope so,” Lirael said, wanting desperately to believe her.

It was much later than Lirael had realized, and the library was almost deserted. Most people would be at dinner, or starting early rounds, or off socializing after work. The rest of the day shift librarians were probably finishing up the last of their duties before they too were released. The main reading room wasn’t _entirely_ deserted, however, and Lirael spotted Vancelle crossing the main room towards them. As the Chief drew closer, Lirael noted she wore a very amused expression, which was puzzling to say the least.

More puzzling still was the slight bow she gave them. “Abhorsen, I was just looking for you…”

The name did not immediately register. Lirael and her companion stopped, and Lirael looked around. Then it hit her – indeed it felt like someone had literally punched her in the gut. She glanced up at the other woman, her eyes wide.

The Abhorsen Sabriel winked at her, then turned back to the Chief. "I've been sneaking off again, Vancelle, I apologize."

"Not a worry, my lady," Vancelle replied. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Actually, I think I may have," she said. "And Lirael has been an immense help."

Vancelle smiled. "Hardly a surprise."

Any pride Lirael might have felt at the praise was completely overshadowed by the continued feeling of shock she felt at learning just who she'd been speaking to for the past few days. Glancing up at the Abhorsen she managed only to whisper, "You...you didn't..."

"You never asked," Sabriel murmured, sounding a bit amused. Then she added a bit louder, "Lirael, thank you again, truly. I'm sure I will see you again before I leave..."

All Lirael could do was nod, and smile weakly when the Abhorsen touched her arm lightly in parting, before heading off with Vancelle. When they were out of sight Lirael covered her face with her hands, resisting the urge to scream.

* * *

 

The following day, Lirael made herself scarce. She couldn’t decide what she was feeling, to be honest, and though she knew talking to someone would be the best way to figure that out, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. Even the Dog, who noticed immediately that something was wrong with her mistress, and attempted all day to coax it out of her.

When Lirael got back to her study that evening and sat at her desk, the Dog walked over and lay her head in Lirael’s lap. “Did you see your friend today?”

“She…” Lirael’s mouth felt dry when she thought about it again. “She’s the Abhorsen, Dog. I was talking to her all this time and I had no idea.”

The Dog’s ears pricked up. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Lirael whispered, then rubbed her face with both hands. “I should have known! She seemed so familiar, I – “

“You mean you’ve seen her before?”

“Yes, I mean…” Lirael stopped, frowning. “No. No, I haven’t. At least not in person.”

The Dog whoofed softly and sat down, peering up at her. “Well, in my experience, Abhorsens are also all quite secretive. And as long as you weren’t directly rude…”

Lirael turned in her chair to look down at her friend. “She’s also the queen.”

“Is she? That’s very interesting. You weren’t directly rude, were you? I suppose not. She probably wouldn’t have kept talking to you if you upset her.”

“Still, I feel like I’ve been such an idiot,” Lirael said. She turned back to her desk and picked up her pen, absently turning it over in her hands. “I know I’m being silly, but I always seem to do things like this whenever…Dog?”

But the Dog had vanished. Lirael looked around the small room, and was peering under the desk when someone in the doorway cleared their throat.

“Lose something?”

Lirael sat bolt upright, her face flushing again. The Abhorsen was leaning in the doorway, a book in her hands and a light smile playing over her face. Lirael looked down and shook her head.

“Do you mind if I come in for a moment?”

Another shake of her head.

Sabriel stepped into the room, and Lirael half looked up at her. She couldn’t quite meet the Aborsen’s eyes and instead focused on the book in her hands. It was small, bound in green leather with silver clasps. But the interesting thing about it was the sheer power Lirael could feel radiating from it, even if she hadn’t been able to see the Charter marks that crawled across the cover. She wondered if it was a book from the library, and if so, how she hadn’t seen it before.

“I missed you today,” Sabriel said lightly. “I was getting rather fond of our little chats.”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Lirael mumbled, looking down at her hands.

But Sabriel shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she said. “When I realized you didn’t know who I was…well, I should have told you, but it was rather nice to talk to someone without them tip-toeing on eggshells because of who I am.”

And Lirael understood that feeling completely, though she was certain the reasons people might treat the Abhorsen in such a way were very different from the reasons they would treat her differently. So she nodded, glancing up for just the briefest second.

“So,” the Abhorsen continued, “Don’t feel as though you have to act any different than you have been. And if you want to call me ‘Sabriel’ you can.”

Again Lirael nodded.

Sabriel hesitated, then held out the book to her. “This is…well, I thought it’s something you might find interesting.”

Lirael perked up at that. She tucked her hair behind her ear and eagerly took the volume, smoothing her hands over it for a moment. At her touch the Charter marks on the silver clasp seemed to move a bit quicker, especially when Lirael held it out to read the title: _The Book of the Dead_.

She looked up at Sabriel, who leaned against the edge of the desk and gave a little nod. Carefully, Lirael set the book in front of her to open it. She glanced at the table of contents, then began to read the introduction. Before she realized it she had read part of the first chapter as well, and felt oddly drowsy when she looked up at Sabriel. The Abhorsen had shifted so she was sitting on the desk, chin resting in one hand.

“Oh…sorry…” Lirael bit her lip. “It _is_ very interesting. Is it yours?”

Sabriel smiled broadly. “A family heirloom, you could say.” She slid off the desk, taking the book when Lirael held it out to her. “Would you be interested in reading more?”

“Yes!” Lirael said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, but it did seem to be the right answer.

“Wonderful.” Sabriel looked pleased. “I know it’s late, so we can continue this conversation tomorrow if that’s alright. And Lirael?”

Remembering herself again, Lirael glanced down. “Yes?”

“Happy birthday,” said the Abhorsen, before she turned and left the room.

Lirael stared after her for a long moment, a smile playing on her face. She didn’t even notice when the Dog reappeared and walked over to stand beside her chair, at least not until the Dog murmured, “Now _that_ is very interesting.”


	3. Chapter 3

After leaving the library, Sabriel headed straight upstairs to Sanar and Ryelle’s room, ignoring the various looks she received from passing Clayr. She kept _The Book of the Dead_ tucked under one arm; for a brief moment she had considered leaving it with Lirael, but a nagging part of her mind reminded her that she wasn’t absolutely certain. Not yet. Still, the fact of the matter was that her own son could not even touch the book, and Lirael probably would have read the entire thing in one sitting if allowed.

She knocked on the door, and a second later a voice called, “Come in, Sabriel.”

“Oh, you were _guessing_ ,” she accused, grinning as she stepped into the comfortable sitting room. “You didn’t actually know it was me.”

The twins, sitting together on the window seat across from the door, laughed. Sanar shook her head and pointed, “We heard you. Clayr don’t wear boots like that, and you’re the only person allowed up here.”

“Besides we figured we would see you,” Ryelle added. “Vancelle told us you befriended Lirael.”

“Yes…” Sabriel said slowly. She tugged a chair over so she could sit facing the twins and sat, then absently drummed her fingers on the cover of _The Book of the Dead_. “I wanted to talk to you about Lirael actually. She’s a very unusual young woman.”

Sanar nodded. “Remarkable, even.”

“Yes she was able to read this,” Sabriel lifted her hands for a moment so they could see the book she had in her lap.  

The twins were quiet then, in the closest they ever showed to surprise. Sabriel watched them, trying to tell if this was news to them or not. In tandem they turned their heads in the direction of the fireplace, looking, Sabriel guessed, at the faintly glowing time crystal.

“We know nothing of Lirael’s paternity,” Ryelle said. “I suppose it would be theoretically possible.”

“A diluted lineage, perhaps,” Sanar mused. “From centuries ago when your family was larger.”

The cover of the book felt warm under Sabriel’s hands. Unsettlingly so. Over the years she had seen it bleed, become covered in frost, change before her eyes, but this warmth was new. She looked down, half expecting it to be glowing, but only the silver clasps reflected the gentle glow of the Charter lights above her head.

The twins’ continued silence did worry her, however, and she looked back up at them. “Something else is going on, isn’t it?”

Ryelle nodded. “We Saw the boy you were looking for. Nicholas.”

“What?” Momentarily distracted from her previous concerns, Sabriel sat up straighter. “Where is he? Is he alright?”

“In the Old Kingdom, near Edge.”

“And no.”

“No he’s not alright?” Sabriel half rose. “I have to –“

But Sanar lifted her hand. “You will leave in the morning with a boat…and with Lirael.”

Sabriel took a deep breath. “A paperwing would be faster.”

“If Lirael knew how to fly one in the event that you were incapacitated…”

“…if there were fewer Gore crows…”

“Alright!” Sabriel held her hands up in exasperation. “Alright, but if Nicholas Sayre dies…”

The twins gave her a look that was equal parts sternness and sadness. Like parents contemplating a lecture for a misbehaving child, they continued to stare at her as they grasped each other’s hands. Sanar tilted her chin up ever so slightly. “Do you no longer trust us?”

“I do,” Sabriel whispered. She let out a breath and her shoulders sank, the weight of the weeks previous and the weeks ahead pushing her down. “I’m just so tired.”

“Then get some rest,” Ryelle murmured, though she knew very well that wasn’t what Sabriel meant. She rose and crossed the few feet between them, leaning over to touch a light kiss to Sabriel’s forehead. “We will send someone for you when it is time.”

* * *

 

Sabriel managed to catch a few hours’ sleep before she was awoken by someone knocking on the door. Calling out that she would just be a minute, Sabriel dressed and grabbed her pack, sword and bells. She opened the door to find a tall, rather stern looking Clayr standing there.

"Abhorsen," she said with a half bow. "Forgive me. I was sent to fetch you."

"I'm ready," Sabriel said, casting one last look around the room before starting down the hall.

Her escort was stiffly silent for a moment then she said rather abruptly, "Lirael is my niece. Her mother was my younger sister."

"You're Lirael's aunt," Sabriel said, looking at her in surprise.

"Kirrith," she came to a stop and turned to face Sabriel. The stern set of her face relaxed ever so slightly into an expression of worry. "I was told they're sending her away, to rescue...someone."

Sabriel nodded. "A friend of Prince Sameth. He is in grave danger and they Saw her with him."

"Please, Abhorsen..." Kirrith made a motion as though to grab Sabriel's sleeve, then clasped her hands. "They can't. Lirael is far too young for this, she's only nineteen."

"I was eighteen," Sabriel said dryly. It wasn't that she entirely disagreed, but the implication of Kirrith's words was not exactly something she appreciated.

"With all due respect, my lady, Lirael is not you."

"No," Sabriel agreed. "She's going to be something even greater."

Whatever Kirrith had been expecting her to say, it hadn't been that. She stared at Sabriel, entirely puzzled and clearly waiting for her to elaborate.

"I'm not entirely sure how," Sabriel said quietly. "But I believe your niece is the Abhorsen-in-Waiting."

Now Kirrith looked as though she might faint. She lifted one hand, touching her fingertips to her forehead, wrinkled her nose as though to disagree, then gave herself a little shake and wordlessly continued walking. They left the main corridors and started down a tightly curving hall that was clearly taking them lower beneath the glacier.

"I will be traveling with her," Sabriel said quietly. "If that's any reassurance."

The other woman swallowed, her frown returning, but she did give a slight nod.

* * *

 

The hall ended and opened into a vast subterranean dock. Kirrith did not follow Sabriel into the wide, echoing space, but instead turned and headed back the way they had come. Sabriel looked to the left, to the cave mouth where early morning sunlight reflected off the Ratterlin, and a row of icicles gave reminder that they were still deep beneath a glacier. The dock itself ran along one side of the cavern, and at the far end she could see three figures waiting beside a small boat. Re-adjusting her pack, Sabriel strode quickly over to join them.

Lirael looked utterly exhausted and overwhelmed. Frightened too, and Sabriel had to resist a very maternal urge to wrap her arms around the poor girl and murmur a promise that everything would be alright. Clearly the twins had not told her everything, for Lirael looked surprised to see Sabriel.

"Hello yet again," Sabriel said, with a small smile. "I hope you don't mind a traveling companion."

"N-no," Lirael said hoarsely. "But..but why..."

"That is something the Abhorsen can explain along the way," Sanar said gently. "We need to show you both how to raise and lower _Finder's_ masts, though beyond that she is fairly self-operating."

Sabriel nodded and cast a look at their vessel. True to Clayr aesthetic, it was sleek and beautifully carved, so much that the figurehead of a wide-eyed young woman seemed almost alive. Turning back, Sabriel caught Ryelle smirking at her and she made a rather un-queen like face in response.

While the twins explained how to operate the boat, Sabriel stowed their packs in an oilskin lined box. Then she put their two swords and Lirael's short bow in waterproof containers within easy reach on either side of the mast. Her bandolier of bells, as usual, proved a bit difficult, and she settled for draping them over the seat by the tiller. Sanar and Ryelle had each of them raise and lower the sails to show they understood, and then it was time to depart.

"I do not think we need to remind either of you that what we See is only ever a possible future," Ryelle said, after she and her sister had embraced Sabriel and Lirael. "So proceed with utmost caution. You have a very long road ahead of you."

"Ah," Sabriel said with a bitter laugh. "When do I ever not?"

The twins smiled at her, a wisp of sadness crossing their faces. Then they turned to Lirael. "We will meet again," Sanar said. "Of that I am certain."

"But remember," Ryelle added. "No matter where you are, you are always a daughter of the Clayr."

Lirael's eyes shone at that, and she swallowed thickly, nodding. She wiped her eyes as she turned back to Sabriel. Giving her a tight smile, Sabriel reached out to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder for a moment before they both moved to climb into the boat. The twins gave them a moment to settle, then moved to cast off the line holding them to the dock.

"May fortune favor you both!" The called in unison.

As _Finder_ began to glide away from the dock swifter than any unspelled boat possibly could, Lirael turned in her seat to watch the twins. She remained that way until they rounded the bend onto the Ratterlin proper, and she could no longer see Sanar or Ryelle.

The day was lovely, clear, cool and bright. Along either side of the river, trees swayed and birds sang as the sun climbed higher in the sky. For now they had the water to themselves, and it would probably remain that way until they came to the first town some ways south. Once _Finder_ made her way out into the middle of the river, Sabriel let go of the tiller and settled into a more comfortable position, facing Lirael.

"I think we have a lot to talk about," she said, hoping her tone wasn't too intimidating. "Why don't you go first?"

 


	4. Chapter 4

Lirael felt like she talked for hours. She told the Abhorsen about her exploration the previous night, the strange chamber with her name on it, the even stranger items within. Sabriel admitted she had never even heard of remembrancing, but was fascinated by the idea. Somehow this led to Lirael telling her everything else; how much it hurt to not have the Sight, her utter despair, and the hope that her job in the library had given her. The only thing Lirael left out was the Disreputable Dog, both because she missed her friend too much and because she wasn't quite sure how to explain her to the Abhorsen.

When she finished it was not yet even mid-morning, but Lirael could keep her eyes open no longer. She barely even heard Sabriel telling her it was alright before she sank down against a rolled up blanket and fell into a dead, exhausted sleep.

* * *

 

Lirael awoke some time later to find the sun just past its zenith in the sky. Even so, the day was still cool, the river beneath them placid and smooth. Lirael shifted and peered over at Sabriel. The Abhorsen had shifted a little, sitting on the seat with one foot propped up against the side of the boat, a book resting against her knee. Something about how easily she sat in a rather uncomfortable-looking position to read made it easy for Lirael to imagine her as a much younger woman, or a teenager even, sitting up late at school or in a library somewhere.

Absently, Lirael slid her hand into her pocket, feeling for the statuette. However it was not cool stone that her fingers brushed against, but warm dog-fur. Blinking in surprise, Lirael sat up straighter and tugged on what proved to be an ear – followed by the top of a head, then a snout, then a neck and paw.

“Ouch! Tight fit!” complained the Disreputable Dog as she pulled herself the rest of the way out of Lirael’s pocket.

This exclamation was followed by a dull thud as the book fell from Sabriel’s hands. Then silence, while she stared at Lirael and the Dog, and Lirael stared at her feet, and the Dog wagged her tail a little, tongue lolling out.

A second later Lirael felt the Dog tense, and heard her let out a low, warning growl. Looking up, she saw that Sabriel’s hand had crept over to her bells, the tips of her fingers barely touching Saraneth's handle.

"Wait!" Lirael said, putting an arm around the Dog. "She's my friend she's not dangerous! Well…she could be dangerous but she won't hurt you."

Sabriel did not relax. "My experience with talking Free Magic creatures is limited to one who's tried to kill me three times."

"I would never -!" The Dog exclaimed. She let out an indignant huff, then dropped the front half of her body in a canine bow. "It is an honor to meet you, Lady Abhorsen. I am the Disreputable Dog, loyal friend to Lirael, and to any friends of hers."

"You're sure she's not dangerous?" Sabriel asked.

Again the Dog snorted and muttered, " _She_ is right here."

"Dog, shut up," Lirael hissed. Then to Sabriel, "Yes, entirely. I've known her for years."

The Abhorsen finally relaxed. Lifting a hand to her face, she let out a slight laugh, "You just pulled a talking dog out of your pocket. Why do I even bother being surprised about anything anymore?"

Lirael found herself smiling lightly as well. She petted the Dog for a bit, until her friend grew too restless and moved over to put her front paws up on the side of the boat and stare out at the passing scenery. Lirael looked at it as well, though the sight of a small island reminded her what the twins had said before she left. Turning back to Sabriel, she cleared her throat.

"Um, Abh - Sabriel?"

The older woman tilted her head expectantly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Do you think we could stop a bit early tonight? I was wondering if you could...if you would help me try going into Death," Lirael said, her brow furrowing a little. "I wanted to try using the dark mirror."

"Of course," Sabriel said without hesitation. "We'll go for another hour then find some island to make camp on, then we can give it a try." Lirael must have looked surprised because Sabriel gave a little laugh. "What?"

"I thought you'd say no," Lirael said. "Isn't it...isn't it not allowed?"

Sabriel rubbed her jaw thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "Lirael I've been hesitant to tell you this simply because you've been through so much in the past forty-eight hours, and I would feel guilty piling more concerns onto that..."

Sudden fear sent a chill through Lirael's stomach, and she found herself reaching over to pull the Dog closer. She didn't say anything.

"I was at the Glacier to research my family," Sabriel continued. "I'm sure you know my son was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting..."

Lirael frowned. "Was?"

"Recent...revelations have come to light," said Sabriel, looking down almost guiltily for a moment. "And I realized he was not meant for that path. So I wanted to find out if it was possible that I had other living relatives, even distant ones."

"Did you find any?" Lirael asked.

There again was one of those small, knowing smiles. "I found a girl with remarkable skills in Charter magic, who could read _The Book of the Dead_ and looks more like me than she does her fellow Clayr."

Lirael stared her blankly for a moment, then when she spoke her voice came out as barely more than a squeak. "I don't look like you..."

"Actually, mistress," said the Dog, stepping away so she could scrutinize first Lirael, then the Abhorsen, "You look a great deal like her ladyship."

Lirael shook her head, partially in denial of the apparent similarities, and partially in denial of what she knew Sabriel was suggesting. That was too much, too impossible, there was no way. "I'm just a librarian," she heard herself whisper.

"I don't think you're 'just' anything," Sabriel said gently.

“No.” Lirael squeezed her eyes shut. She gave herself a little shake, hugging her knees to her chest.

Sabriel watched her for a few minutes, and thankfully did not press the subject further. “Either way,” she said eventually. “I can show you how to walk in Death, yes.”

Lirael turned to sit next to the Dog, looking out over the passing river. She was grateful her friend chose not to comment on what the Abhorsen had said, though out of the corner of her eye she could tell the Dog was watching her. After a moment, however, the Disreputable Dog simply gave her ear a little lick before resting her chin on the edge of the boat.

* * *

 

In the early evening they came across a small island in the middle of the river and docked _Finder_ beside it. The island itself was perhaps thirty feet by twenty, mud and gravel around the edges with just enough grass at the center to make a small spot for camping.

“First things first,” Sabriel said as they took their packs and weapons from the boat. “Do you know how to cast a diamond of protection? I mean we’ll probably be safe enough with the running water all around –“

“And I can guard you bodies while you’re in Death,” piped up the Dog.

“ – and that,” Sabriel agreed. “But it’s a good thing to know anyway.”

Lirael shook her head; she had read about them but never had any cause to learn one. While Sabriel showed Lirael the marks, the Disreputable Dog surprised them both by swimming back to the bank of the river and returning with a bundle of wood, twice in fact, so that they would have enough for a fire once they were done practicing in Death. Then the two women spent a few minutes casting the diamond of protection large enough that it surrounded the entire grassy portion of their island.

“In circumstances like this it’s relatively easy,” Sabriel said. “The larger you cast it, the more difficult it is. And the more stressful the situation, the more difficult. I once cast one at the base of a broken Charter stone and that was…interesting.”

“I’m sure,” Lirael murmured. She was buzzing with a nervous, excited energy now, and went over to take the dark mirror, the panpipes, and _The Book of Remembrancing and Forgetting_ out of her pack. Holding the three items, she watched Sabriel expectantly.

The Abhorsen had put on her bandolier of bells, then she nodded to the panpipes. “I’m not sure if I should be pleased or worried that there are sets of those floating around. I found two at the House, as they were used for training young Abhorsens-in-Waiting before they got their bells. Do you know the names?”

“Yes,” Lirael said quietly, looking down at the panpipes. “Least of all is Ranna, the Sleepbringer, who will bring all those who hear it into slumber. Second is Mosrael, the Waker. One of the most dangerous bells in any form –“

“Favored by necromancers,” Sabriel murmured, with a distinct note of distaste.

“Third is Kibeth,” Lirael continued. “The Walker. Kibeth gives freedom of movement to the Dead, or forces them to walk to the piper’s will. But it can also make the piper walk where they would not go. Fourth is Dyrim, the Speaker, who can give voice to a still tongue, or just as easily steal a voice away. Fifth is Belgaer, the Thinker, who can return independent thought and memory, or in a careless hand, erase them.

“Sixth is Saraneth, the Binder,” Lirael paused for a moment, noting how Sabriel smiled almost fondly at that, touching the second largest bell in her bandolier. “Who shackles the Dead to the wielder’s will, and is, I take it, the favored of the Abhorsens.” Again she paused, touching her thumb to the seventh and longest pipe, its metal forever cold and frightening. “Seventh is Astarael, the Sorrowful,” she whispered. “Properly sounded, it will call all who hear it into Death.” She bit her lip and looked to Sabriel. “Have you ever used that one?”

Sabriel nodded slowly. “I have heard Astarael’s song twice, the first time when my father used it to slow Kerrigor so Touchstone and I could escape Belisaere. The second time was five years ago, when I used it while fighting a necromancer named Chlorr of the Mask.”

Lirael’s breath caught in her throat and she shuddered a little, her eyes widening.

“Luck allowed me to survive,” Sabriel said. Her voice was stiff, clearly recalling an unpleasant memory. “Both of us were hurled into the third precinct of Death. I was able to get my footing a second before a wave washed us into the fourth. The wave weakened Chlorr enough that after some fighting in the fourth precinct, I was able to walk her all the way to the sixth. I should have seen her all the way to the ninth gate, but if I had gone that far I may not have made it back. Even so, I could barely even leave my bed for a week following.”

The Dog had been listening as well, sitting at Lirael’s feet, unusually quiet. When Sabriel finished she gave herself a shake and craned her head to look up at Lirael. “The moral of that story, Mistress, is don’t use Astarael unless absolutely necessary.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Lirael said, swallowing thickly as she put the pipes in their pouch on her belt, then looked back to Sabriel.

“But, luckily we don’t have to do anything like that,” Sabriel said with an air of almost forced cheerfulness. “I trust the first precinct will be far enough in to test your abilities?”

Lirael nodded, but she still felt a niggling anxiety. If what Sabriel had said earlier was true, if she _was_ meant to be the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, there may yet come a day when she would have to do something like what Sabriel did, weigh her own life against defeating a powerful enemy, risk everything for duty. She jumped when Sabriel reached out to briefly hold Lirael’s jaw in one hand and make her look up.

“Push whatever is worrying you out of your mind for the moment,” the Abhorsen said in a tone that made Lirael think of her teachers back at the Glacier. “If you go into Death with a burdened heart, it will be all the more difficult to resist the current.”

“Alright.” Lirael was no stranger to quashing worries, and took a moment to do so before turning to face Sabriel. She had read about going into Death, but reading was considerably different from actually doing.

Sabriel flexed her hands, then rested her right on the pommel of her sword, and poised her left in preparation to grab a bell, effectively crossing her arms over her stomach. Both she and Lirael closed their eyes as she began to speak, “Death is stepping out of your body, somewhere between parting through a veil and pushing through a rime of ice into the freezing river beneath.”

Lirael’s brow furrowed in concentration. She felt for the border between Life and Death – and was shocked when she felt a growing chill against her face, then her throat, then the whole front of her body, so strange with the sun still warming her back. She pushed harder and the cold grew more intense, surrounding her entirely, and she began to feel a tug around her shins.

When she opened her eyes she saw a grey river stretching out to a flat horizon, with a grey sky above. The current tugged at her legs even stronger now, and Lirael even went with it for a few steps before she felt a hand on her shoulder. Sabriel had stepped up beside her, and gave her an approving nod.

“You’re a fast learner,” she said. “But let’s stick with the first precinct for today.

Lirael nodded and reached for the dark mirror. “I don’t think two people can use this at once…”

“That’s alright,” Sabriel said. “You try that, I’ll stand guard.”

“I don’t know how long it takes,” Lirael said dubiously.

Sabriel gave her a funny look. “Don’t worry I brought a crossword puzzle.”

“A what?”

“Nothing.” The Abhorsen laughed and shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

Lirael nodded and opened the Dark Mirror, the click of its clasp a little too loud in the silence of the river. She took a deep breath, cast one last glance at Sabriel, then held the mirror up before her.

* * *

 

 If Sabriel saw the look of disappointment on Lirael’s face when she finally closed the mirror, she did not comment on it. Nor did she press Lirael for details, simply asking, “Did it work?”

“Yes,” Lirael said hoarsely, returning the mirror to its pouch. She lifted her hand to wipe her eyes, though she covered the gesture by also brushing her hair out of her face. “Do you –“

She stopped abruptly, for Sabriel had frozen, tense, her gaze fixed in the direction of the first gate. At first Lirael did not know what had alarmed her, until she realized that the sound of the gate had stopped, only to pick up a moment later.

“Lirael!” Sabriel said sharply as she drew her sword. “Something comes, return to Life, _now_.”

For a second, a part of Lirael wanted to argue, but Sabriel’s tone brooked no argument. But before Lirael even had a chance to turn and reach for the border with life, something exploded out of the water in front of them and Saraneth’s voice rang out, gripping her tight and holding her in place.

At first the creature looked only like a mass of flame and shadow, surrounded by the reek of Free Magic. Then it seemed to congeal before Lirael’s eyes into the shape of a man, a necromancer with a bandolier across his chest and Saraneth held in one hand. Unlike Sabriel’s bells, however, this one had a handle of cold, dark ebony, and no Charter magic shining on its surface.

“Kneel!” the man snarled, voice crackling. Lirael found herself on her knees, the river rising around her. To her great relief, she saw that the bell’s sound had barely staggered Sabriel, who stepped in front of her, sword raised.

“Do you know me, necromancer?!” she said, her voice cold and furious.

The man froze, then stepped back, drawing his own sword. “ _Abhorsen_ ,” he spat, as though uttering some foul curse. “No! You’re not…you shouldn’t be here!”

Lirael heard a sharp whistle, and realized it came from Sabriel. A second later the force holding Lirael snapped, and she sprang to her feet, drawing her blade, though she remained behind Sabriel, hoping her terror did not show on her face. At the same time she recognized the necromancer as the one from the vision she had seen back in the observatory. “Hedge,” she whispered.

“Hedge?” Sabriel repeated, her lip curling. “ _You_ -! You’re the one who attacked my son!”

Hedge simply laughed, though he took a step back, making it quite obvious he intended to run. “My master will hear of this, and send an army to destroy you, Abhorsen.”

“You will not live to tell him,” Sabriel snarled and lunged at him.

Their swords met with an ear-splitting clang of metal-on-metal, and the two spun apart, Hedge angling back towards the gate. Even Lirael, who was only decent at dueling, could tell he was attempting only to defend against Sabriel’s blows rather than ripost. Sabriel on the other hand seemed to be getting more and more enraged with every passing second. Why did she not simply bind Hedge and make him walk so they could return to life?

Sabriel grunted when Hedge’s sword hit her arm, though the blade glanced off of the strange plate armor she had on under her surcoat. She aimed for his throat, just above his own armor, but Hedge blocked it easily.

Lirael returned her sword to its sheath and took out her panpipes instead. As little as she wanted to doubt the Abhorsen, it seemed to her that Sabriel was focusing too much on trying to hurt the necromancer, rather than bind him. And besides, both were edging with worrying speed towards the First gate.

Her lips found the third pipe – Kibeth – and Lirael blew, focusing all her intent on Hedge. Distracted as he was by Sabriel, the necromancer had not been anticipating it, and the sound took him completely by surprise. Still, he smirked at them as the sound jerked him around, starting him even quicker back towards the gate and out of their sight.

“Damn it!” Sabriel shouted. Shoving her sword into its sheath she spun around to face Lirael.

The look she gave Lirael was almost as frightening as Hedge, and it took all of Lirael’s willpower not to flinch back from her. But Sabriel was still clearly gripped by her anger, and Lirael held her ground, tilting her chin up and clenching her hands.

“That was a ridiculously foolish thing to do!” Sabriel snapped.

Lirael felt tears welling in her eyes, but she forced herself to keep her gaze steady. “Y-y-you were too upset,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Sabriel glared at her for a second longer, then closed her eyes and took a deep, steady breath. To Lirael’s surprise, she nodded. “You’re right.” When she opened her eyes again, her expression had softened. “You’re entirely right. Oh…Lirael I’m sorry.”

“Can we go back?” Lirael said, finally ducking her head and looking down. A moment later Sabriel gripped her arm and together they walked back into life.

* * *

 

The evening air felt even warmer after the icy chill of Death. Still, Lirael was shaking violently, and almost immediately brought her hands up to her face, wiping tears and ice from her cheeks with frantic motions.

Sabriel surprised her again by pulling her into a gentle embrace. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “You were completely right to do what you did, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Lirael tensed, then slowly relaxed, leaning into the Abhorsen. She felt the Dog press against her leg as well, though she didn’t say anything. Finally, when Lirael had managed to stop shaking quite so bad, she stepped back and looked at Sabriel. “You said he attacked the prince…”

“Yes,” Sabriel said, dusting the last flecks of frost from her own clothes. “In Ancelstierre, he attacked Sameth and hurt him very badly.”

“What happened?” asked the Disreputable Dog.

“The necromancer Hedge attacked us,” Lirael said. “He wasn’t expecting Sabriel to be there though.”

“Lirael walked him past the first gate,” Sabriel said, sounding considerably calmer now, and even smiling a little. “That was actually incredibly impressive. I don’t think I was wrong about you at all. Despite it being your first time in Death you managed to keep your head even when I lost mine.”

Lirael nodded, but she was having a hard time feeling proud of herself, even hearing such high praise. Now that they were back and out of present danger she found herself thinking about her parents, and what she had seen of them. Glancing up again she saw both her companions watching her and knew they were probably waiting to hear what she had seen, but Lirael just shook her head. Especially with what had just happened, she didn’t think she could speak about the memory without breaking down, and was relieved when Sabriel spoke.

“Well, I think a nice warm fire and some dinner is in order,” she said, turning to walk over and start assembling the kindling.

Lirael crouched down and wrapped her arms around the Dog, burying her face in the familiar, warm fur. The Dog allowed the hug for an unusually long time before she started to wiggle and Lirael let go, making a face when the Dog licked her cheek.

“Are you alright, Mistress?” she murmured.

“Yes,” said Lirael. “It’s just been a very, very long day.”


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning dawned bright and cool as the day before.  Lirael awoke feeling stiff but rested, and found Sabriel already loading her things into the boat. The Disreputable Dog was taking one last swim in the river, coming up to shake off just as Lirael got out of her bed roll.

No one spoke much over breakfast, Lirael worried that she had upset the Abhorsen the previous day, and Sabriel apparently lost in thought about what lay ahead. Even the Dog made no noise as she sat chewing on a piece of dried meat.

It wasn’t until they were getting into the boat that Sabriel asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Lirael said deliberately. She worried her lower lip for a moment then said, “I understand why you got upset.”

Sabriel put the last bundle into the storage box and closed it. She let out a forced breath of laughter. “Still, that doesn’t mean it was a wise thing to do. Truth be told part of it was just…” her voice trailed off, and for the briefest second she looked unbelievably sad. Then she shook her head and climbed into the boat. “We should get going.”

Lirael exchanged a look with the Disreputable Dog, but followed, settling into the spot by the tiller.

They had not been sailing for very long when the Dog let out a warning yip, springing over to the bow of the boat. She went stiff legged, pointing across the water with one forepaw. Lirael reached for the spyglass in a holder beside her and tried to focus it where the Dog was pointing. When she did she frowned. “It looks like a metal bathtub.”

“A what?” Sabriel asked, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand and squinting as well.

“A metal bathtub,” Lirael repeated. “Floating in the water.”

The Dog let out a low growl. “There’s something else as well, you’d better nock an arrow, mistress.”

Lirael felt momentarily torn, wondering if they shouldn’t just keep sailing. But the natural current of the river was bringing the bathtub closer to their boat with every second, indeed now it was near enough that Lirael could see it clearly without the spyglass. Just as the Dog had said, there _was_ something else; a man sat slumped in the bathtub, unconscious or asleep, the top of his curly head just visible. Letting go of the tiller, Lirael moved past Sabriel so she could have a clear shot at the person if need be. _Finder_ seemed to share their general caution, for she adjusted her path to avoid a direct intercept with the tub.

The man’s arms hung over the sides of the tub, hands trailing in the water. He had his knees drawn up, chin tilted down, and would have looked dead if not for the slightly labored rising and falling of his chest.  “He’s armed,” Lirael called, when she spotted the hilt of a sword at the man’s side.

Just as they pulled up within a foot or two of the boat, a small white cat appeared, crawling out from under the man’s legs to stand with its paws on the edge of the tub. This set the Dog barking and bouncing from side to side. The cat ignored her however, its piercing green eyes fixed on Sabriel. Lirael could have sworn it was smirking.

“Hello, mistress, fancy seeing you here.”

Sabriel’s eyes widened in shock, but it did not seem to be from the cat speaking, but rather from the fact that she had finally recognized who was in the tub. She let out a panicked shout of, “ _Sameth!_ ” before lunging forward so quickly that Lirael though she was about to vault right over into the river.

Instead she leaned over the side of the boat as far as she could, reaching out to grab the tub and pull it closer. When the two crafts bumped together, the cat sprang over to _Finder_ , sniffing at the Dog who was no longer barking but simply growling low and deep in her throat.

Lirael lowered her bow. The jolt of the two crafts hitting one another had woken the young man – the prince, apparently – and he was blinking in drowsy confusion up at Sabriel.

“Mother?” he muttered, lifting one hand to rub his eyes. Lirael could see the resemblance between the two. Prince Sameth had a darker complexion than his mother, a squarer jaw and bulkier build, but the shape of his eyes and mouth and nose were near identical.

Sabriel said nothing, jaw clenched as she practically lifted Sameth from the tub into _Finder_ , then grabbed the worn looking pack that had been tucked in next to him. The movement set the tub rocking, and water sloshed over into it, causingit to sink seconds later beneath the surface.

Lirael could see the prince was injured; blood soaked through his torn trouser leg and his face was sheened with sweat. Sabriel had one hand pressed over her mouth as she looked him over, though was quickly lowered it to the wound on his leg, Charter marks flaring under her fingers even before she had said anything.

“Mother,” Sameth said again, his voice breaking as though he were about to burst into tears. “What –“ he stopped, noticing Lirael for the first time. Then he looked mildly embarrassed and swallowed thickly before asking in an air of forced calm, “Mum what are you doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here?” Sabriel asked, raising her eyebrows at him. “My job, Sameth, you’re supposed to be back in Belisaere! What in all the Charter are you doing?! What happened?”

The white cat, who had wandered back over to Sabriel and Sameth, let out a low chuckle. “He’s just as bad at adventuring as you were at that age. At least he didn’t take a paperwing and crash it.”

“Shut up, Mogget,” Sameth muttered. He sighed. “I was going to rescue Nick.”

“So are we,” Sabriel said, but she held up a finger to silence him so she could finish healing his leg.

Prince Sameth seemed to be in considerably less pain by the time Sabriel finished. She sat back with a sigh and wiped her brow. “Now, what happened?”

“I was attacked,” Sameth said, managing to sound – in Lirael’s opinion – just a little whiny. “By two local constables in one of the towns west of Belisaere. They were going through my pack and…” he gestured at the tattered bag.

Frowning, Sabriel opened the pack and drew out a bandolier identical to the one she wore. She held it up, staring for a moment before asking lowly, “Why did you take this.”

“I didn’t! Mum, I - ”

“It was locked under key and spell in my room.”

Lirael shifted uncomfortably. She looked down and busied herself with scratching the Dog behind the ears, not particularly wanting to be witness to a family quarrel no matter how minor. She was so focused that she didn’t realize Sabriel had said something to her until the Dog gave her a nudge. “Sorry, what?”

“I said these are yours now,” Sabriel said, holding the second bandolier out to her.

“What?” Sam blinked in surprise as though just noticing Lirael for the first time. With the surprise came a look of interest that instantly put Lirael on guard. “Wait who are you?”

Sabriel arched an eyebrow at him. “This is Lirael. She’s a daughter of the Clayr and a relative of ours, apparently, and the new Abhorsen-in-Waiting.”

“Oh. Wow. Well, great. Congratulations and nice to meet you, Lirael.”

Lirael smiled weakly in response, then turned her attention to the bells, running her fingers over the smooth, beeswax treated leather and feeling the pulse of both Charter and Free Magic beneath. It reminded her of the panpipes, yet on such a greater scale.

“You definitely look more Abhorsen than Clayr,” Sameth said absently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Clayr with black hair. Or that was so –“

“Sameth,” Sabriel said.

Lirael glanced up in time to catch the sheepish look the prince threw her. “It’s alright,” she murmured.

“Right. I’m just…I’m just going to get some rest,” Sam said, and settled down against his pack.

* * *

 

The prince slept for the rest of the day, waking only when _Finder_ drew up onto the sandy edge of yet another small islet. Over a dinner of fish and tomatoes the three of them began to plot where they would head next.

“I think we should stop at the House for a variety of reasons,” Sabriel said. “We can rest and restock, and I would like to send a message to Touchstone.”

“And your house is on the long cliffs, right?” Lirael asked. “So we could strike out west from there and get to Edge… are there horses at the house?”

“No,” said Sabriel, at the exact moment that Sam exclaimed, “My horse is dead and I don’t want another one!”

Both women turned to stare at him, causing the prince to flush with embarrassment. Sabriel finished chewing a mouthful of bread before she asked, “Since when have you got a horse? You didn’t take one of your sister’s did you? “

“No,” Sam muttered, picking at a blade of grass. “Bought one. But she’s dead.”

A few feet away, Mogget muttered something about a ‘spoiled royal brat’ which Sabriel either didn’t hear or chose to ignore. Lirael glanced at the cat, thinking for a brief second that he did have a point. How could the child of the two most powerful people in the kingdom have turned out so whiny? Or was it just something that teenagers did around their mother? Not that she knew about that, and whatever she felt about Sam, a pang of jealousy shot through her as she watched the two of them out of the corner of her eye.

The Disreputable Dog lay her head on Lirael’s knee and nipped at her sleeve. Lirael heaved a sigh. “I know. I know. I’ll stop.”

* * *

 

Sam was the last to wake the following morning. Before he opened his eyes he could hear his mother and Lirael talking nearby. A curious sort of jealousy rose in him at that, and he made a great show of sitting up and stretching. His mother moved to pass him a bowl of oatmeal and press a kiss to his temple. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Muuum,” Sam grumbled. He shot a look at Lirael, but she was staring determinedly down at her own food.

Sabriel looked a little too pleased with herself before asking, “Are you feeling better?”

Sam nodded. “A little stiff, but yeah.”

“Good.” Sabriel stood and went to start returning items to her pack. “Then eat up, both of you. We should get going. The sooner we reach the House the better.”

Sam and Lirael finished their breakfasts quickly, then helped Sabriel load their things back into _Finder._ Mogget was fast asleep once again, not even stirring when Sabriel dumped him rather unceremoniously in with the packs. The Disreputable Dog was the exact opposite, bounding around the islet a few more times before acquiescing to sitting beside her mistress in the boat.

After they had been underway for a few minutes, Sabriel glanced at Sam. “I don’t suppose your sister knows where you are?”

“Um,” Sam grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. “No, not really. She’s probably figured out I’m gone though.”

“Sameth,” Sabriel sighed heavily, then pursed her lips and looked past him across the river. “We’ll send her a message when we reach the house, just so she doesn’t worry too much.”

Sam snorted. “Right, I doubt Elli is losing any sleep over this. She’s probably glad I’m gone.”

His mother surprised him by letting out a laugh. “You are so much like your father sometimes.”

Letting out a loud huff in response, Sam sank a bit lower in his seat. He shot Lirael a look. “Bet you never imagined the great Abhorsen Queen Sabriel was really just as embarrassing as anyone else’s mother.”

“Hah!” said Sabriel.

Lirael blinked slowly. “I wouldn’t know. My mother’s dead.”

“Oh.” Sam looked down, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” But Lirael had turned back to checking the sails, and he wasn’t sure that pressing the subject was a good idea. After a slightly strained silence he turned back to his mother. “So Dad went to Ancelstierre by himself?”

Sabriel had shifted to sit on the floor of the boat, legs drawn up and arms resting on her knees. She nodded. “Needless to say he’s not too thrilled by that. Sulyn already threatened to invite him to a garden party.”

Sam grinned despite himself, picturing his father attending a garden party in a kilt and tunic. His mother was clearly imagining the same for she chuckled, shaking her head.

“He does know how to behave himself when I’m not there,” she said.

“Nah that doesn’t sound like him,” Sam said, then yelped when his mother flicked a bit of river water at him.

The Disreputable Dog interrupted them a moment later with a soft whoof. “I can hear swift water up ahead, and people.”

“Rapids?” Lirael wondered, but Sabriel shook her head.

“That will be the High Bridge gorge,” she said. “The river gets a lot narrower and a little faster, but it is far from unmanageable.”

Sure enough as they continued they could see the sides of the river growing higher and closer together, then water between picking up speed. Sabriel moved past Sam to root around in her bag, finally coming up with a large, hooded cloak. Sam frowned, exchanging a puzzled look with Lirael.

“Mother?”

“The guards won’t hesitate to let a Clayr boat pass,” Sabriel said, fastening the cloak around her neck and arranging it to hide her surcoat. Then she drew the hood up, hiding her hair and all but shielding most of her face from view as well. “I do not need every person and their dog knowing what I’m up to. Sam, you should probably lie under that tarp for now.”

Sam laughed, then realized his mother was being serious. “What?”

“Twenty minutes at most, just while we pass below the town.”

Grumbling, Sam lay down and pulled the tarp over himself. He was certain that if he complained he would get some lecture about the time his mother had to hide under a pile of dead bodies, or whatever far worse situation she had suffered through as the Abhorsen.

Mogget joined him a moment later. “Really, in keeping with the family tradition you should be pretending to be a figure head.”

“ _Charter_ ,” Sam groaned. “The boat already has a figurehead, and also…no.”

Lirael turned to give them a wide eyed look. “So…that story is true then? About the king?”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed heavily. “Yes my dad was frozen as a figurehead and then Mum unfroze him with a kiss and it was all very storybook romance blah blah blah…”

“Actually she breathed on his face,” Mogget said dryly. “I told her to kiss him but she thought that was improper, even though she spent several minutes staring at his –“

“Mogget!” Sabriel snapped. “Go back to sleep.”

Despite her best efforts, Lirael found herself giggling softly, and she quickly covered her mouth, though beside her the Dog let out a sound that was most certainly a canine laugh. Then Sam pulled the tarp over himself and Mogget, and Sabriel settled down, trying to look as innocuous as possible. They didn’t have to wait long before a guard boat rounded the corner, drawing close enough for the man at the prow to shout over to Lirael.

“What vessel, and where are you bound?”

“The Clayr’s boat _Finder_ ,” Lirael called abck. “We’re bound for Qyrre. My companion is not feeling well, you’ll have to excuse her.”

The man cast a glance at Sabriel, who lifted a hand in a weakly apologetic gesture.  “Aye, I know _Finder_ ,” the man said finally. “And she clearly knows her passengers. Pass, friends. Though be cautious, there’s trouble brewing.”

Lirael bowed her head gratefully, though she did not fully relax until they had rounded the next curve and moved out of sight of the other boat. Then she leaned towards Sabriel to murmur, “Do you think he suspected…?”

“No,” Sabriel said. “I think we’re alright.” Beside her, Sam shifted a little under the tarp and Sabriel reached over to lay a placating hand on his arm.

Lirael sat back, craning her neck to stare upwards. They were coming up to the town of High Bridge now, and it was a truly breathtaking sight. Built atop a large natural bridge, the buildings struck upwards towards the sky, but also seemed to spill over the edges. A few even looked like they were drilled right through the stone itself. She found herself leaning back farther and farther until –

 _Finder’s_ boom swung around so quickly that Lirael didn’t even realize what was happening until she found herself knocked right over the side of the boat and into the water. Sabriel shouted at the same instant, the Dog let out a warning bark, and _Finder_ careened so far over that she looked in danger of capsizing. Lirael gasped and struggled until a cool hand grasped hers and Sabriel pulled her back aboard.

“What happened?!” Lirael gasped, coughing up river water. Her gaze fell on a large hole in the side of the boat that certainly hadn’t been there a moment ago.

The light faded abruptly to twilight as they passed under the bridge. Sabriel tossed her hood back, expression grim as she grabbed something protruding from the side of the boat near the tiller; a crossbow quarrel, heavy and wicked, designed to punch through plate mail. If _Finder_ had not knocked her over, it would have passed right through Lirael as well.

“Is everyone alright?!” Sam gasped, sitting up and looking around.

“Yes,” Lirael said a bit numbly.

Sabriel was looking around, but all that surrounded them was stone and shadows. She shook her head. “That was far too good a shot to be natural.”

“No one is following,” reported the Dog, who had her nose tilted up to the slight wind. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t meet us on the other side.”

Sam paled a little, looking between Lirael and his mother. Sabriel was lost in thought, absently tapping the quarrel against her boot. Lirael swallowed and looked ahead; the other side of the bridge was quickly approaching. Already she could see docks and jetties, and one long quay carved right into the side of the rock. She could also see another guard boat rounding a bend.

All five passengers aboard _Finder_ watched the boat to see what it would do. As they neared the sunlight on the other side of the bridge, however, it became obvious that the guard boat meant to intercept. Sam made a slight sound of dismay as it picked up speed. “They’ve got at least twenty archers on that boat!”

“Maybe they’ll be like the first one and let us pass when they see who we are,” Lirael said, but she sounded unsure even to her own ears. “Maybe if we just keep going…”

To her slight surprise, Sabriel nodded in agreement. The Abhorsen then turned so she was facing behind them, cupped her hands to her mouth and whistled several clear, trilling notes redolent with Charter magic. Not a second later the breeze picked up, filling _Finder’s_ sails and giving them a much needed burst of speed.

Unfortunately this did not seem to be the best choice. The guard boat changed course, now very obviously intending to intercept, its own speed rising to match theirs.

“At least one of the beings on that boat is a Free Magic construct!” the Disreputable Dog called over the wind and sounds of splashing water.

“Are the archers human?” Sabriel asked.

The Dog sniffed the air again. “Probably, but the captain certainly isn’t.”

As she said that, they could all see the archers knocking arrows to their bows. Sabriel swore under her breath, reaching up to start fumbling with the clasp of her cloak. “Sam, arrow ward, quickly!”

Sam turned a bit green at that, his eyes widening, though again he did not argue with his mother. He began pulling marks out of the Charter, stringing them together while the archers moved into position. Just as Sam threw the ward up before them, five of the archers fired; two arrows splashed into the water, three of them struck the ward and vanished.

Then Sabriel stood, tossing her cloak aside. The guard boat was close to them now, close enough that Lirael could see the archers’ faces – and also smell the unmistakable tang of Free Magic corruption coming from the large figure at the front of the boat.

“Hold fire!” Sabriel shouted, lifting one hand. With the sunlight shining off the silver keys on her surcoat, and the bandolier of bells fully visible, there would be no mistaking who she was. Indeed Lirael saw several of the archers pale, their expressions turning horrified when they realized who they had just fired at.

The construct, however, did not move or react. At least not until one of the men gasped, “ _Abhorsen_.”

At that single utterance, the construct let out a screeching, inhuman cry. The clothing it wore dissolved, silver flames erupting from it as it sprang from the boat and onto the surface of the water, now looking like a giant boar with flaming eyes and tusks. For a moment Lirael thought it would charge them, but it turned and began to sprint away. Several people – including Sam – fired arrows after it, but they either missed or glanced off the thing in a shower of sparks.

Sabriel went for her bells, but Lirael was faster, thrusting her hands forward and screaming out a spell that left her fingertips as a golden net. The net spread as it shot upwards, then came down on top of the boar, covering it, dragging it down, down below the surface in an eruption of steam.

Silence fell as the passengers of both boats waited to see if the spell had worked. The river calmed, and the boar did not reappear. Lirael let out a long breath, lifting a hand to her forehead.

Only then did Sabriel address the archers, calling over to them, “Are you unharmed?”

“Aye, Abhorsen!” called a woman at the front. She removed her leather helmet, her expression tight and worried. “Please, your majesty, we beg your forgiveness, we would not have fired if we knew who you – “

“You are not at fault,” Sabriel said, waving her hand. “You were deceived by whoever created that creature, I place no blame on you.”

Many of the archers let out audible sounds of relief, wiping their brows or dropping their heads in respectful bows.  Sabriel lifted her fingertips to her Charter mark in acknowledgement as the two boats drifted past one another. The woman who had spoken began calling out orders to take the boat back to dock.

Sabriel remained standing as _Finder_ continued on down the river. When High Bridge was no longer in sight, she sat, rubbing her face with both hands. “Is everyone alright?”

“I think those archers were more scared of you than the fact that they’d been tricked by Free Magic,” Sam said with a weak, trembling laugh.

“I stand by what I said, they were under a necromancer’s sway,” Sabriel said. “I would be a cruel queen indeed if I punished them for that.” Then she turned to Lirael with a smiled. “And well done by the way.”

Lirael ducked her head, smiling to herself.

“Unfortunately,” Sabriel continued, “I fear that will be only the least of our troubles…”

 


	6. Chapter 6

They sailed throughout the day, the spelled wind carrying them swiftly away from High Bridge, and though Sabriel positioned herself by the tiller, _Finder_ did not need much steering. Lirael occupied herself with making another Charter skin – a process which took a little longer than usual as Sam wouldn’t stop bombarding her with questions about it. She did finish in late afternoon, carefully folding the skin and putting it into her pack.

“I’d love to learn how to do that,” Sam said enviously.

Lirael tucked her hair behind her ear. “There’s a book in the library at the Glacier, I’m sure you could borrow it…”

“Still, the learning curve on that’s got to be substantial,” Sam said. He added, no doubt intending to sound casual, “How old are you, anyway?”

Lirael narrowed her eyes. She was sure Sam had heard the part about them being related, and his mother was _right there_ , but her habitual wariness still won out. “I’m thirty-five.”

“No you’re not.”

“Am so.”

“She uses a lot of ointments,” offered the Dog with a wry grin. “Potions from the north. Spells.”

Sam shook his head. “There’s no way you’re _that_ old.”

At that, Sabriel let out an indignant snort. “Sameth! Excuse you.”

“What?” Sam raised his eyebrows at his mother.

“I’m thirty-eight.”

“Well exactly!” Sam said. “You’re thirty-eight and you’ve got grey hair. Lirael can’t be only three years younger than you, there’s no way.” But Sabriel’s expression had become positively withering so he sighed. “Sorry. Mum you don’t look old. I still don’t think Lirael’s thirty-five but fine, if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine.”

Sabriel let out a soft huff, but when she looked over at Lirael she winked and shot her a small grin. Lirael found herself smiling as well at the lighthearted exchange, and moved to sit with an arm around the Dog. She was surprised to feel the tension in her companion’s body.

“What’s wrong?” Lirael murmured.

“There’s a foul scent on the air,” said the Dog. “And we’ve only seen what, four boats since leaving High Bridge? That can’t be normal.”

“It isn’t,” Sabriel agreed, frowning now as well. “Especially not in these parts. Can you tell what the smell is?”

The Dog lifted her nose to the wind, which had shifted direction over the past couple hours. A low growl rose in her throat. “Free Magic, my lady. Further down, on the western shore. I can smell people too, frightened people.”

Lirael looked to Sam as well and correctly judged the look of worry on his face. “Could it be the necromancer? Hedge?”

“I can’t tell,” said the Dog, shrugging. “But the smell of Free Magic is strong. It could be. Or a creature – a stilken maybe, or hish.”

“Oh.” Lirael felt a gnawing sense of dread at that. Even with the Abhorsen at her side, she wasn’t too keen on facing a stilken again.

Sam shifted, craning his neck and peering at the tree-lined shore to their left. He took a deep breath. “We could just…just sail past...” This was said with the timid uncertainty of someone who knew very well what the response would be.

“No,” Sabriel said, her expression grim. She lifted her bandolier and put it on with practiced ease, moving to the front of the boat. _Finder_ seemed to anticipate her next command and had already started steering towards a rickety little jetty poking out among a stand of willows.

Lirael moved to locate her own bandolier, ignoring the anxious fluttering in her stomach as she put it on. She had just begun feeling for a clasp to adjust it when she realized the leather already fit snugly against her chest. The weight of the bells was unfamiliar but – much like the librarian’s waistcoat – felt right.

As _Finder_ docked beside the jetty, Sabriel drew her sword and climbed ashore. Bright Charter marks shone along the blade in the darkening twilight, mirrored by those on Sameth’s blade as he followed her, with Lirael bringing up the rear. For several moments they stood on the shore, listening to the silence around them; even the gulls on the water had fallen quiet, and no breeze stirred the nearby trees.

Then a long, drawn out scream rent the air. This was followed by more screams, and the horrible, empty chill of several people dying all at once. The sounds were growing closer, as was the sense of the Dead. Abruptly a single man burst through the trees, running to the water and not hesitating before he dove in.

A blackened, withered corpse followed him, making furious and distorted sounds as its prey got away. Before Lirael could react, Sabriel had sprinted forward, swinging her sword with both hands and cleaving the Dead thing’s head from its body. The corpse crumpled, the spirit too weak to remain in life without a physical body.

But the screams continued, and Sabriel turned to rush off through the trees. Lirael hurried after her, not wanting to be left with the bells but no instructions, and Sam and the Dog followed close on her heels. She could sense something beyond just the Dead Hands, something much more powerful, and she knew that this had to be the necromancer.

They burst into a clearing. By the faint light that remained, Lirael could see thirty or forty more Dead Hands surrounding a group of people – adults and children, the latter clustered in the center. Sabriel had started towards them, drawing Saraneth. In the next second she flicked it in a quick upward arc that made Lirael wonder how the heavy bell didn’t simply fly from her fingers; instead it rang out, and the closest Hands froze.

Lirael drew Kibeth, more out of instinct than any conscious thought. Pages from _The Book of the Dead_ flashed across her mind and she rang the bell in a careful figure eight, the sound becoming a lively jig that sent the spirits of all five Hands marching back into Death. Sabriel had all of a split second to give Lirael an approving nod before diving back into the fray.

Sam had charged past them towards something at the far end of the clearing. Out of the corner of her eye Lirael saw a bright flash of light. She turned just in time to see the spark of Free Magic strike Sam as he ran, knocking him to the ground.

Then she saw what Sam had been running at, and what had cast the spell; a tall figure, wrapped in the furs of the northern tribes and wielding a short-bladed sword. This had to be the necromancer, as she could feel the power rolling off of them even at such a distance. ~~~~

“Sabriel!” Lirael shouted.

Sabriel looked over, and Lirael could see the sudden fear in her face when she saw the necromancer and Sameth. But she was clearly torn – four adults and most of the children were still alive, and the Dead continued to adavance.

“Go!” Lirael called to her. “The Dog and I…”

Sabriel did not wait to hear her finish before she sprinted across the clearing towards her son. Lirael switched Kibeth for Saraneth, turning to face the Dead. She shouted at the survivors to run, but the children would not, paralyzed as they were with fear. All Lirael could hope was that she would be enough to hold off the Dead.

* * *

 

Sabriel's heart hammered in her chest as she ran. Sam still had his sword and he blocked the necromancer’s first blow, sending up a shower of sparks. That brief flash of light reflected off the necromancer’s face and Sabriel knew instantly that this was not Hedge, but Chlorr of the Mask.

Chlorr recognized her in the same instant and she began to laugh, puffs of white smoke billowing from her mouth. A chill ran down Sabriel's spine; she saw no human eyes watching her from behind that mask, just two burning points of flame. She drew to a halt three yards from Chlorr, realizing then that she _had_ killed her when they first encountered each other - but someone had brought her back.

“Abhorsen,” Chlorr drawled. “Such a pleasure to see you again, and just in time too…” She had her falchion in one hand, its metal gleaming with twisted, Free Magic perversions of Charter marks. “I was just about to deal with this pathetic whelp of yours.”

Sam struggled to get up, but Chlorr pressed a booted foot against his stomach, keeping him in place. Sam grimaced, turning his head to look at Sabriel with wide, terrified eyes. Sabriel tried to look as reassuring as she could. She had put the bells back into the bandolier and drew her sword, movements slow and overly calm.

Chlorr tilted her head. “His death will mean so much more if you’re here to witness it.”

“Who brought you back?” Sabriel asked, her face frozen in an expression of cold disdain as she refused to rise to Chlorr's bait.

Almost leisurely, Chlorr rested the flat of her short blade against her shoulder. “Does it matter?” she asked. “The important point is you weren’t good enough to actually defeat me.”

“Care to have another go?” Sabriel taunted, dropping into a defensive stance. If she could just get Chlorr to move away from Sam…

Sabriel feinted to the right, making it seem like she was trying to get between Chlorr and Sam’s head. The second Chlorr moved to parry, Sabriel spun completely around, hitting Chlorr from the back with as much force as she could muster.

Sparks and steam flew up from where Sabriel’s blade sliced through the heavy furs Chlorr wore. She let out a low snarl, but had stepped off of Sam, who sprang up and out of the way. Furious now, Chlorr sprang at Sabriel.

Sabriel was ready for her, parrying her blows and riposting when she could. Still, Chlorr had unnatural strength and energy on her side, and Sabriel could tell that unless Chlorr was distracted again, she herself was unlikely to do any real damage. Sam, whose sword had broken during one of Chlorr’s attacks, hovered nearby, unsure what to do. Sabriel heard him cry out and glanced over before realizing he had just been calling to Lirael.

In that moment, Chlorr flipped her sword around and smashed the pommel into Sabriel’s face. Momentarily dazed by the pain, Sabriel stumbled back, feeling blood trickling down from her nose. Then Chlorr kicked low, knocking Sabriel’s legs out from under her. Chlorr wasted no time in lunging over her, stabbing downward with her blade.

Sabriel rolled at the last second and though the falchion sank into the mud, it left a bright line of blood from just below Sabriel's eye to her jaw.

Sam shouted, a raw, angry cry that Sabriel recognized, though not from her son. A second later Sam threw himself at Chlorr, knocking her off of his mother. Chlorr threw Sam a good three feet, but Sam bounced back up, bursts of Charter-fire leaving his fingers and igniting Chlorr’s furs.

Chlorr all but ignored the flames licking at her. She turned her attention back to Sabriel, who was struggling to her feet again. This time Chlorr’s blade found its mark, driving deep into Sabriel’s side and sending up a shower of sparks as it broke through her plate armor. Sabriel gasped with pain, instinctively doubling over, and Sam let loose with another spell, but Chlorr simply laughed, drawing her bloodied sword back to strike again.

In that time Lirael had started to run towards them, though she knew she didn’t have the will-power to bind Chlorr, not fully. She grabbed Kibeth instead and began to ring it in a seemingly haphazard overhand motion, praying that it was not about to snatch her up as well.

Chlorr jerked back, screeching. She rounded on Lirael, steam issuing from every gap in her clothing as she fought to hold onto life. “You half-breed witch!” she hissed. “You will not –“

“ _Walk_!” Lirael shouted, ringing Kibeth again.

At the same time the Dog barked, the sound twining with Kibeth’s song, bolstering it. Chlorr stumbled, her whole form trembling. Then, with one last terrible shriek, she lost her hold on life, dissolving and spiraling back into Death, leaving the furs crumpled on the ground.

Sabriel was on her knees, one hand pressed to her side. She looked up when Chlorr vanished. "She'll be back," she muttered.

Lirael looked at Sabriel and gasped when she turned and saw just how much blood was soaking through Sabriel’s surcoat. She knelt beside her, reaching out to put both hands over the wound in Sabriel’s side. Charter marks flared beneath Lirael’s fingers; she was no great healer, but she was certain she could at least stop the bleeding.

“Thank you,” Sabriel murmured. Her nose was still swollen and crusted with blood, the cut on her cheek still bleeding, but she waved Lirael off as soon as the worst of her injuries were tended to. “The rest can be seen to at the House…Sam?”

“Here,” Sam had sunk down as well, looking exhausted as he crawled over to Sabriel.

Sabriel looked him over, her brow furrowed. She reached over and brushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Oh, Sam. Seems like you take after your father in more than just looks.”

Lirael peered at them, torn between curiosity and the anxious urge to get back to the river. She half crouched between them, wondering if it would be too much to ask Sabriel if they could get moving again.

Luckily Sabriel sensed her worry and pushed herself to her feet, grimacing. Looking around the clearing, however, she fell still. “Oh, Charter…” she breathed sadly.

“Did…” Lirael began, but her voice trailed off. She saw the Disreputable Dog padding over to them and felt hope flare for a moment, but the Dog shook her head, letting out a soft whine. Lirael closed her eyes, but all she felt was the cloying sense of many, many deaths.

Sabriel put a hand on her shoulder. “We need to get back to the boat.”

“They’re all dead,” Lirael whispered, opening her eyes again. She found herself blinking back tears. “We didn’t save any of them!”

“No, we didn’t,” said Sabriel. Her voice was flat, and to Lirael, sounded cold. Sam too was looking a little dazed and shocked, though that might have had more to do with whatever had just happened to him.

Though Sabriel began walking again, Lirael found herself stuck in place for a moment longer. She jogged to catch up with Sabriel, then, surprising even herself, rather roughly grabbed the Abhorsen’s arm. “Is that all you’re going to say?!”

“Lirael…” Sabriel turned, but she was looking past Lirael, at the dark shadows of the forest. “There are more Dead coming and I cannot fight in this condition.” She tugged her arm out of Lirael’s grasp, then put it around Lirael’s shoulders, steering her rather forcefully back towards the river, with Sam striding along beside them.

* * *

 

Sam fell asleep almost as soon as they got back in the boat. Even the Disreputable Dog was unusually subdued, curling up by Lirael’s feet with her head on her paws. Lirael drew a cloak over herself, feeling simultaneously both exhausted and certain she couldn’t sleep. Instead she watched Sabriel, who was sitting with one hand resting on her uninjured cheek.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she murmured.

Lirael shook her head.

“I do care,” Sabriel said, shifting. “It tears me up inside every time something like that happens. But the horrific truth is that it does happen. There are so many Dead and only two of us – we can’t save everyone.”

“It’s not fair,” Lirael whispered.

“No,” Sabriel agreed, and for the first time Lirael saw moonlight glinting off the unshed tears in her eyes. “No it isn’t.”

* * *

 

They passed Qyrre in the early hours of the morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Though they had originally planned to stop in the town, _Finder_ seemed to know without being told that they needed to reach Abhorsen’s House, and quickly. That was about the time that Lirael finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

She awoke a couple hours later to the rather alarmingly close sound of a waterfall. Sam was awake as well, though he looked like he would much rather not be.

“Look,” he said, pointing down the river.

Lirael turned, rubbing her eyes. Ahead of them swirled a dense cloud of mist that marked the top of the waterfall, but rising out of it, looking for all the world like some fantastical ship, was a high white wall, and above that, the red-tiled roofs and towers of a magnificent house. Lirael sat up straighter, her exhaustion momentarily banished by the sight.

“Welcome to our excessively huge house, not to be confused with our other home which is a palace,” Sam said with a feeble smile, though the remark brought a soft laugh from Sabriel as she stirred.

Lirael smiled as well, but her attention turned soon to the river, and specifically how the current parted on either side of the island. “Where do we land?” she asked.

“There’s a dock on the western side,” said Sabriel, sitting up the rest of the way. She groaned, stretching carefully. “Thank the Charter we’re here finally…”

Either _Finder_ heard Sabriel’s direction, or she had been to the house before, as she began to drift to the right, bringing them around to a small dock on the western side of the island. Mogget was the first to spring over onto the sun-warmed wooden planks, where, to Lirael’s surprise, a ghostly Charter Sending was waiting to take the first of the bags that Sabriel passed over.  Only a minor clamor followed, as Sam had to dart past his mother to get off the boat first and help her – despite her protests – up onto the dock.

Once all their gear was unloaded, Lirael turned to look at the boat, realizing that they wouldn’t be able to take her any further in their journey. She leaned forward to kiss the wooden figurehead on the cheek, then give her a gentle nudge. As _Finder_ swung around to head north again, the three of them called out various “Thank yous” waving until the boat was out of sight.

The afternoon was lovely, the air clear and warm, the sky filled with thin wispy clouds. The Sending started up the brick path to the main house with their bags, and the three weary travelers followed at a more sedate pace, Mogget and the Disreputable Dog twining about their legs.

It was such a nice day, in fact, that Lirael could almost forget the horrors of the previous night entirely. She paused part way up the walk, closing her eyes for a moment and tilting her face back towards the sunlight. When she opened her eyes again however, she frowned. Far above she could see what at first appeared to be a flock of birds, though one abruptly pulled ahead, the others swooping and diving after it.

“What’s that?!” Lirael exclaimed, prompting Sabriel and Sam to look as well.

Sabriel shielded her eyes with one hand, squinting upwards as well. “Gore crows,” she said, then as the birds flew closer – “And a message hawk!”

They all watched with baited breath as the hawk tried to circle closer. Each turn it took was mirrored by the gore crows who kept themselves just below the hawk, cutting off any attempt at descent. Lirael found herself silently urging the creature on, wondering if there wasn’t something they could do to help it.

Then, out of sheer desperation, the hawk tucked in its wings and dove, smashing through the cloud of crows and plummeting straight for the ground like a stone. Lirael thought for a beat that it was dead or stunned, then at the last second it spread its wings and came to land on Sam’s outstretched hands, its feathered breast heaving.

“Message…for Prince Sameth…” it managed in a voice that was very much _not_ a bird’s.

Sam made soothing noises, stroking its ruffled feathers. “Yes, yes, I’m Prince Sameth.”

The bird shuffled around, there was a flare of Charter marks, and it spoke again, this time in the voice of a young woman. Lirael guessed this had to be the Princess Ellimere, judging by how Sam and Sabriel reacted.

“Sam, you idiot, I hope this finds you at the House. Or better yet, with Mother. I’ve sent another hawk to her at the Glacier telling her you ran away. Oh, I heard from Father – things are bad down there it seems. Corolini is causing all sorts of problems at the Moot, and I’m going to be taking some of the Trained Bands south to try and stop any more Southerlings from crossing the wall. I hope you _are_ with Mother because Dad said it’s absolutely essential that you find Nick and return him to Ancelstierre, as Corolini is trying to say we kidnapped him. Father also sends his love. Try not to get into any more trouble.”

The message ended there, and the bird turned to start preening itself.

“I should send a message to her,” Sabriel said. She had an odd expression on her face. “And to Touchstone.”

Sam reached for her arm. “Mum ,you need to rest. Both of you do."

Sabriel and Lirael turned to look at him, fixing him with nearly identical expressions of exhausted annoyance. Sam simply shook his head and stepped past them into the house.

* * *

 

After a short nap, and a good long soak in the bath, Lirael found herself feeling considerably more human. Her bruises still ached, but at least her head was finally starting to clear. She was also starving, so when the Disreputable Dog appeared to tell her that dinner was ready downstairs, Lirael didn't even tease her about smelling distinctly of soap.

"I'd better get a bone after suffering through _that,"_ The Dog grumbled when asked about her bath.

The Sendings had left out clean clothes for Lirael on the bed, which included a surcoat of the same design as the one Sabriel wore. Unlike Sabriel's, however, the silver keys on Lirael's were quartered with the seven pointed stars of the Clayr. She hesitated before putting it on; even after everything she had been through so far, this felt too much like she was giving up the last hope of ever being a proper Clayr. Instead Lirael pulled on a clean red waistcoat over her tunic and leggings before heading downstairs with the Disreputable Dog at her side.

Sam met them on the stairs. He too looked much better, bright-eyed and dressed in clean clothing. "Look at this," he said, holding the sleeve of his surcoat up for Lirael to see. "I think the Sendings are getting a bit senile, Charter knows where they pulled this out from."

Lirael squinted. Sam's surcoat was pale golden yellow, patterned with odd little spades.

"That's the wallmaker's trowel," said the Disreputable Dog after a moment.

"The wallmakers?" Sam parroted. "But they've been gone for centuries. Millenia, even. No one knows what happened to them. I'll have to tell Mother, maybe she'll know..."

The continued downstairs to the first floor. The doors to the dining hall - which took up at least half of the main floor - were already open, letting out a waft of tantalizing smells. Still absently puzzling over Sam's odd surcoat, Lirael stepped into the hall - and froze as an overwhelming sense of Déjà vu swept over her.

Spread out before her was a long, polished table of some dark wood, laiden with far more food than three people could eat. Sabriel sat at the far end in a high backed chair, her hair still damp from her own bath. Behind her shone a brilliantly detailed stained glass window depicting the building of the Wall.

Lirael had seen the room before, days ago when she first used the dark mirror. Except then there had been a different black-haired person sitting in the chair at the end, a different Abhorsen, she realized now.

Sabriel had been picking at a plate of grapes, but looked up, frowning when she saw the expression on Lirael's face. "Are you alright?"

"I..." Lirael began. Slowly she began to walk the length of the table towards Sabriel. "I know this place. I think - " But she hesitated. How would Sabriel react? She guessed the obvious, of course, that they were related somehow, but this was different. Lirael gave herself a shake. "I'm not sure how to say this. I think...I think we're sisters."

"What?" Sabriel leaned back in her chair. Slowly she lifted her hand to cover her mouth.

Lirael's stomach clenched. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just...I saw my mother and...and my father and he was sitting where you are and..."

"Oh, I'm not..." Sabriel shook her head. When she lowered her hand, Lirael could see that she was smiling. Then she was on her feet, holding her hands out to Lirael. "Come here."

Lirael allowed herself to be pulled into a tight embrace. She buried her face in Sabriel's shoulder, relieved that she wasn't angry, unsure what to make of this revelation, overcome with a wash of emotions.

"This is what you saw in the Dark Mirror?" Sabriel asked as they parted. Sam was staring at them, his mouth hanging open.

"My mother and...and our father," Lirael said again, nodding. Her face flushed and she looked down. "They only had one night together, it must have been just before he died."

"Oh," Sabriel breathed, sinking back down into her chair. She pursed her lips and stared at her empty plate for a moment before looking up with a smile and motioning for Lirael to sit, which she did.

Sam finally found his voice. "So you're my _aunt?"_

Lirael nodded numbly, sitting down across from him. So this was it - she was the child of an Abhorsen, and destined to follow his path rather than her mother's. And yet for all her sadness, she had also found a family, an older sister, a nephew.

A sister who also had to be the Abhorsen Queen, of course. Lirael shot a look at Sabriel, who was helping herself to some of the fragrantly seasoned chicken. Something touched Lirael's knee and she looked down to see the Dog staring up at her with a hopeful expression. Lirael smiled weakly, scratching behind her ears.

There was a lot to take in, and though Sabriel continued to smile with dazed happiness when she met Lirael's gaze a moment later, Lirael could still feel a tightening knot in her stomach. They still had to rescue Nicholas, and deal with whatever this new threat was, but even after that, there was no telling just where this new path would take her.

* * *

 

_My love,_

_I'm writing you from the house. I'm sure Elli sent you a message about Sam already, but he's with me and relatively unharmed. We are planning on heading out soon to find Nicholas Sayre, so you can assure any concerned parties down there that I am handling this personally, if that is any reassurance to them._

_There's also a Clayr named Lirael with us. To keep things brief - she is my half-sister, and the new Abhorsen-in-Waiting. As you can no doubt tell, much has happened in the past few weeks. My head is still reeling._

_I hope things aren't too terrible down there for you. It might shut up Corolini a bit if you announce that I'm going to find Nicholas. Have you spoken to Edward lately? I can't imagine him supporting the idea that we would kidnap his nephew, he knows us far too well. I doubt Nicholas' parents will be any help, you know Charity and how much she loves to be the center of attention. She probably thinks I hexed him._

_We came across another band of Southerlings fallen prey to the Dead. Chlorr was there as well, and I know you're going to worry, but don't. I'm fine now. Mostly I'm worried because she managed to escape me yet again. She's powerful, too powerful to just be a stubborn necromancer. However Lirael is powerful as well, and is an immense help. I think things will be considerably easier with her around._

_I miss you terribly, Touchstone. I keep waking up and expecting to find you there. I hope that once Lirael is trained, you and I won't have to be apart as often._

_Please be careful, my darling. Be patient. Don't let people rile you but most of all be careful there's no telling what lengths Corolini will go to._

_We will see each other soon. I love you with all my heart._

_Yours always,_

_Sabriel_

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Touchstone set Sabriel’s letter down with a heavy sigh, wishing for the thousandth time that he was there with her. At least now he could assure the Sayres that Sabriel was personally seeing to the rescue of their son and nephew. Not that it did much to alleviate his own worries, and a small, bitter part of his mind thought that the life of a foolish teenager couldn’t possibly be worth –

He stopped himself, instantly feeling guilty for the thought. If it was Sam in that position, he wouldn’t be thinking like that.

Behind him, the door opened. Touchstone turned to see Damed standing in the doorway, looking worried. “Sire, have you looked outside recently?”

Shaking his head, Touchstone moved to peek through a gap in the shutters. All he could see beyond the high walls of the embassy was fog, and the faint dark outlines of trees. Were he back in the Old Kingdom he would have no doubt that the intent was malicious, and though he knew this to be simple industrial pollution, he still felt a surge of wariness at the sight.

“Shall I convey your regrets, sire?” Damed asked, sounding almost hopeful.

“No,” Touchstone said after a moment. “As much as I agree that it’s a risk, I must speak with at least one of the Sayres in person. John and Edward are both bound to be present, I’m sure.”

For the briefest moment, Damed’s worry gave way to amusement. “Not the charming Mrs Sayre?”

Touchstone threw him a rueful grin. “If I see Charity Sayre I’m sure all I’ll hear is an earful about how my sorceress of a wife has probably enchanted poor, innocent Nicholas. Not because she’s truly upset, mind you, she just enjoys having dramatic opinions of Sabriel.”

Damed snorted. “In all seriousness, sire.”

“In all seriousness, I do have to go,” Touchstone said. “They’re going to be voting on Corolini’s bill soon, it’s essential that I keep Dawforth in favor of our position. Sabriel would agree.”

Damed looked very much like he wanted to protest, but instead he bowed and nodded. “As you wish. I’ll alert the drivers to bring the cars around.” With that he turned and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Sabriel is risking her life for a teenager, and I’m risking mine for a garden party,” Touchstone said aloud to the room.

He sighed heavily and lifted a nondescript coat from where it lay draped over the bed. He put it on, then folded Sabriel’s letter and stuck it carefully in one of the inside pockets before striding out after Damed.

***

Six hundred miles north of Corvere, across the wall, another fog was growing. This one however was the dark black of storm clouds, and was very clearly not of natural origin. It grew thick as it rolled towards the long cliffs, spreading out, blanketing the Ratterlin and seeming to convene around the island at its center. Still, the defenses of Abhorsen’s house held it back, and sunshine still fell on the gardens and red-roofed house.

The creator of the fog knew that the Abhorsen was in the house, most likely still recovering from their encounter two days previous. With her was the younger of her two children and a daughter of the Clayr who somehow wielded the bells.

Chlorr shifted uneasily where she stood looking down towards the house, though even she could not actually see it through the dense fog. She once knew a great deal about the Abhorsens, and recognized Lirael as one of them, though she was not quite sure how. She recognized it as easily as she had recognized the raw rage displayed by the prince when she injured his mother.

Had the Abhorsen-in-waiting not been present, Chlorr would have done more than just injure her, berserker prince or no. A memory stirred unbidden in the back of her mind, something she had kept tamped away for over six-hundred years, of another mother killed in front of her child. Chlorr grunted softly at that, shaking her head.

Hedge’s voice drifted over to her. “I must return to the hemispheres…”

“Then go.” Chlorr turned. Behind Hedge lingered several shadowy figures. “I will do what needs to be done.”

“Will you?”

Chlorr responded with a displeased hiss, though Hedge was unfazed.

“What shall I tell our master when he asks?”

She was silent for a moment, looking out across the river again. Then Chlorr let out a low laugh that sent a chill even through Hedge. “Say I will gladly bring him Abhorsen’s heart.”

***

“There’s at least two-hundred Dead on the western shore,” Sam said, straightening behind the brass telescope in the observatory. “I couldn’t see Chlorr.”

“She’s out there,” said Sabriel. She was sitting in a nearby arm-chair. Being at the house had allowed them to further tend to her injuries, but that did not mean she was back to full strength, as reluctant as she was to admit it. “I’m not sure we’ll have much choice other than to fight our way out…we could try sending a message to the Glacier for help, but who knows how long that would take, or if the hawk would even make it.”

Lirael and Sam exchanged a look, though neither wanted to actually give voice to their worry. Mogget however, having no such qualms, scoffed and said, “Are you so confident in Lirael’s ability to succeed you, Mistress? Because if you try to fight, Chlorr _will_ kill you.”

Sam let out a distressed noise at that. “Mother, there has to be some other way…”

“I don’t…” Sabriel said, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t know.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. Lirael looked down at the dog, who lay on the carpet with her head resting on her paws. She blew out a great puff of air, then lifted her head to say, “I know of another way, if it still exists.”

Everyone turned to look at her in surprise.

“If we cannot go over the river,” she said, getting to her feet. “Then we could go under it.”

Mogget let out a sharp hiss. “We cannot go there!”

“Why not? She is long gone.”

“Kalliel was the one who decided to dig down below the well,” Mogget continued, his little body tense. “Why should we add our bones to his?”

“What well?” Sabriel asked. “What are you talking about? The only well I know is in the rose garden and that’s full of water.”

Mogget gave her an odd, sideways look. “Is it? Are you certain?”

“We have no other choice,” interrupted the Dog, turning her imploring gaze on Sabriel.

Sabriel hesitated. “Who is this ‘she’ you mentioned? Is she dangerous?”

“She…” the Dog began, getting up and giving herself a slight shake, “is a part of the Charter. An even more raw fragment than I am.”

“So she _is_ dangerous,” Sabriel said.

“Very.” said Mogget, leering at them with one of his smug smirks. “Her voice in particular. We had better hope she does not speak. And if she sings…well, at that point there won’t be much we can do about it anyway.”

Lirael shuddered involuntarily. She was starting to think that this woman, whoever she was, would be even worse an adversary than Chlorr. Looking over to Sabriel, she saw that her sister looked just as uncertain as she felt.

_My sister. I just thought of her as my sister._ Lirael lifted her eyebrows, then rubbed one hand over her face. Sabriel. The queen. The Abhorsen. Also her sister. Amidst everything else that was happening, Lirael felt entirely unsure how to handle this revelation, though she was surprised to find it mildly comforting at the moment.

Sabriel looked up, caught her staring, and smiled. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Lirael said. “I just keep thinking about how strange this is. But I don’t think I really have time for that.”

“There rarely is time to stop and wonder at the world,” Sabriel said, a note of deep regret in her voice. “But we’ll get through this, and then perhaps there will be.”

Lirael ducked her head and nodded, though she wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes tightly.

***

It took a little over an hour for them to prepare for their departure. Lirael, after some internal debating, accepted the clothes that the Sendings had laid out for her; a surcoat showing the silver keys of the Abhorsen quartered with the golden stars of the Clayr, oddly light plate armor, boots and sword belt. Once she was dressed she did not let herself stay too long before the mirror, as the young woman she saw there was unsettlingly different from the Lirael who had left the Glacier.

The real shock came when Lirael arrived in the foyer and found Sabriel dressed in almost identical garments, though her surcoat had only the silver keys. Sabriel looked up when Lirael came down the stairs, smiling as she remarked, “Now you truly look like an Abhorsen.”

Lirael said nothing, her face tightening a little. The Disreputable Dog appeared at her side and she bent down to pet her friend, as that was easier than thinking too hard about what Sabriel had said. Acknowledging that statement would be, to her, the final step of becoming an Abhorsen, and leaving behind the life of a Clayr. That was an old wound that still stung painfully.

“Hey, look what the sendings gave me!”

Glancing up, Lirael saw Sam standing on the stairs, also dressed in a surcoat. His however was emblazoned with some sort of spade or trowel device. He held his arms out so they could see better, and Sabriel crossed over to get a closer look.

“Those are the Wallmakers’ sigil,” Sabriel said after a moment, sounding baffled.

“Guess the Sendings _are_ a bit senile,” Sam said with a nervous laugh.

But Sabriel shook her head, smiling lightly. “No, I think they knew exactly what they were doing. But come now, we should get going.”

Hefting their packs, the three of them went through the front door, with the Dog following closely and Mogget asleep in Sam’s pack. Sabriel led the way, taking a sharp left out the front door. They followed a gravel path that turned down towards the rose gardens. Lirael glanced back at one point and saw Sendings crowding in the doorway, with more still gathered in the windows. She shivered despite the warmth of the afternoon, unable to shake the feeling that they were bidding a rather ominous farewell.

Sabriel ignored them either way. Once they reached the carefully tended rose garden she picked her way across some small stepping stones towards the low well at the very center. Once it had been cleared of vines and other plants, they could see that the cover of the well was held in place by large, spelled chains. Charter marks flared as they drew close, and Sam placed a hand on them, looking thoughtful.

“Can you open it?” Lirael asked after a moment.

“I think so.” But Sam was still frowning. “I understand part of the spell, I think. We’re supposed to kiss it…or just breathe on it. It says ‘my children’s breath,’ specifically, but I’m not sure whose children it means.”

Lirael shrugged. “The children of the Abhorsen line?”

Sam nodded and started to lean in then paused, looking up at his mother. She was quiet, her expression clouded and unreadable. Then, finally, she nodded. Sam leaned the rest of the way in and let out a long breath. For a moment nothing happened, then the marks flared even brighter, and the first chain began to draw back with a slight groaning sound, the links piling up on the ground. Lirael moved to breathe on the next chain, and Sabriel on the third. Like the first these two began to draw back. In the end all three had loosened just enough to allow the cover to be moved.

As the cover was pushed back, a waft of cool air blew up at them. But it was not the dank, musty smell of long standing water that Lirael caught a whiff of, but instead something oddly familiar that Lirael could not place.

“Rosemary,” Sabriel said.

“Amaranth too,” added the Disreputable Dog. “Though you cannot smell that.”

Mogget poked his head out of Sam’s pack to say with a yawn, “Fidelity in love, and the flower that never fades. And you still think she’s not down there?”

The Dog growled in response.

“I don’t suppose either of you will tell us who this ‘she’ is yet?” Lirael asked.

Both animals became very interested in the ground. Sabriel clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, but did not press the subject. She leaned over and grabbed ahold of a ladder attached to the inside of the well and gave it a shake. “It seems stable enough.”

Lirael swallowed. “I suppose we should…”

“Yes.” And with that Sabriel hoisted herself over the edge of the well and began climbing down. Sam followed reluctantly, and Lirael hesitated only a moment before she too followed down into the darkness.

***

His first thought was of her. And the children.

Dazed and temporarily deafened by the explosion, Touchstone rolled over, made sure his limbs were intact, then reached for a revolver that lay under the car next to him. As his senses began to orient themselves again, panic started to build in his chest. He had to run, or to fight, or to do something, _anything_ …

Someone lay a hand on his arm. He looked, expecting Damed, but instead it was Veran, her face grim and streaked with blood. Then Touchstone remembered Damed catching the bomb. When he looked over his shoulder in the direction that he had last seen his body guard, he instantly wished he hadn’t, and had to fight down the bile that rose in his throat.

Muffled laughter came from the other side of the car. Before Touchstone’s mind could catch up with what was happening, he, Veran and one other guard had sprung up and opened fire on the would-be assassins.

Veran grabbed his arm again. “Sire! The river!”

Touchstone nodded, tossing the now depleted revolver aside. They sprinted towards the mouth of a nearby ally, bullets pinging off brick and stone around them. Still they kept running, Veran leading the way down a path that had been carefully laid out by Damed.

They smelled the river before they saw it. The alley came to an abrupt end, depositing them onto a long, wooden and mostly deserted quay. Partway down, Touchstone could see an innocuous little fishing trawler moored, its engine running. It was towards this boat that Veran led him.

“Querel!” she called out as they drew near. “A rescue!”

The man aboard the ship whistled, and more of Touchstone’s guards appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He felt hands urging him down the ladder to the boat, then through a door into the cramped interior quarters. And then he was alone, the trawler already moving as the door behind him closed.

Touchstone sat down heavily on the floor. He held his hands out in front of himself. They were trembling violently, and he stared at them for several heartbeats before finally rubbing both palms against his face. He kept them there for yet another long moment, trying valiantly to catch his breath.

_Sabriel_. He put a hand inside his coat, finding her letter still in the inside pocket. It was a little more crumpled than before, and had a few flecks of blood marring it, but the heavy paper was still intact. Touchstone held it against his nose and lips as though hoping, searching for any trace of Sabriel’s scent that might linger on the letter. All he could smell was a faint whiff of linen and just a trace of something metallic.

“We _will_ see each other soon,” he murmured, echoing her note, if only to reassure himself.

***

It was a long, long way down through total darkness. Sabriel or Sam conjured a Charter light somewhere around the five-hundredth rung. Lirael lost count around the thousandth. None of them spoke, Lirael at least worrying that at any moment she would hear Sabriel hit a broken rung and fall. Instead, Sabriel found the bottom and stepped aside so Lirael and Sam would have room. The Disreputable Dog hopped off the ladder as well, with no explanation as to how exactly she had been climbing.

“Maybe we should…” Lirael began, reaching for a torch that hung in a bracket on the wall. The moment her fingers touched it, however, the torch crumbled into dust. Lirael started, then gave herself a shake and conjured a second Charter light.

Sabriel turned in a slow circle, then looked down a long hallway that led away from them. “Nineteen years and I never knew this place existed…”

“To be fair,” came Mogget’s sleepy drawl from Sam’s backpack, “You didn’t spend much time at the House.”

“And I wouldn’t be surprised if all records of this were lost,” added the Disreputable Dog. “Or destroyed.”

Beside Lirael, Sam shivered. “That’s…reassuring.”

Sabriel made a sound of wordless agreement, then continued on. For the first few minutes the walls were made of worked stone, then that gave way to something that appeared more natural, and yet was quite unlike anything Lirael had ever seen before. The stone was greenish in hue, and faintly reflected the glow of their Charter lights. The strangest thing about it, however, were the swirls and eddying patterns that seemed to be eroded rather than carved.

“Water doesn’t flow like this,” said Sam, reaching out to touch the wall. “Not unless it flowed back and forth on different levels…”

“We should keep moving,” said the Disreputable dog, and the unusual tension in her voice made them all increase their pace.

Just before where the tunnel widened, Lirael spotted a pile of something in the corner. Stepping over to it, she discovered that it was a pile of bone mixed with shards of metal. She nudged it with her boot, but when she reached for them with her bare hand, Sam grabbed her arm.

“Don’t,” he said. “I think that’s…I think that’s bell metal.”

Mogget, peeking out of his pack once again said, “It would seem we’ve found Kalliel.”

They continued forward, the floor slanting slowly downwards, the air growing slowly colder. There was something else as well – a slight tugging at their legs that was all too much like the river of Death. The walls and ceiling had widened into an even vaster cavern as well.

Then Sabriel let out a gasp. “The bells!”

A split second later Lirael felt it as well; in their bandolier the bells were trembling, vibrating, trying to get free of the leather that silenced them.

“No-!” Mogget hissed, struggling to see out of the pack.

The Charter light above Lirael’s head dimmed then went out. Some light still shone from the marks on her and Sabriel’s swords, but even those were waning quickly. Nehima felt different too, twisting in her hand, undulating as though it was alive.

Lirael closed her eyes for only a second, but when she opened them again everything had gone pitch black. Somewhere there came the sound of fabric ripping, Sabriel letting out a startled cry, then silence.

“Sabriel?!” Lirael called, alarmed. “Dog?! Sam?!”

There was no direct reply, but the Dog growled. Then came a low, horrible laugh, that had the hairs on the back of Lirael’s neck standing on end. Mogget’s laugh, she realized, but twisted and far more sinister. Desperately Lirael reached for the Charter, but it simply wasn’t there. Instead she felt only the cold emptiness of Death.

“Sabriel?!” Lirael cried again. Someone touched her arm and she jumped, but it was only Sam.

“What…” he began.

Lirael’s eyes began to register a faint white glow filling the space. By the odd, cold light she could see Sabriel standing a few steps ahead of them. The Disreputable Dog was at her side, but it was not the Dog as Lirael knew; she had grown, her shoulders level with Sabriel’s waist, her whole body emanating Free Magic. Sabriel seemed paralyzed, looking up at a tall, shining creature looming over them. The creature that was laughing with Mogget’s voice.

“Two Abhorsens! Oh what luck is this!” It crowed, voice crackling with static energy as it reached towards Sabriel.

“No!” Sam shouted.

But Lirael’s gaze was drawn past Mogget to something even brighter, something that snatched Mogget up seconds before he caught Sabriel. Lirael caught sight of an impossibly tall, thin woman dressed all in white, her limbs too long and drawn out –

Then the Dog barked. “ _Run_!”

Lirael ran. She did not see if the others followed or not. She simply let her feet carry her fast and far from the cavern.

Through more caverns and tunnels Lirael fled, without thought to what lay ahead of her. She had to trust the Dog to have sent her somewhere safe. Far down the next corridor Lirael could see a faint glow that might have been sunlight. No sooner had she noticed it than something – someone – grabbed her around the waist, roughly and clearly intending to halt her escape. Lirael screamed and thrashed, kicking and punching, still filled with the urge to flee.

“Lirael! _Lirael!_ Ow- stop!”

Lirael found herself on the ground, Sabriel pinning her arms at her sides, most likely to stop Lirael from hitting her again. When she felt Lirael relax, Sabriel le go, rubbing her jaw and frowning. “Ow,” she said again.

“Sorry,” Lirael said, wincing.

A second later Sam dropped to his knees beside them, breathing heavily. “What was that?!”

“I don’t know,” Sabriel murmured. “Is everyone alright?”

“I think…” Lirael began, looking around. There was no sign of Mogget or the Disreputable Dog, and worry stirred within her. She struggled to her feet, leg muscles protesting after all the running, but she ignored them in her urgency. “We need to go back!”

But it was not Sam or Sabriel who responded, “There’s no need.”

The Disreputable Dog walked slowly out of the shadows. She had her head down, tail tucked between her legs. All in all it was an uncharacteristically humble and somber posture. When Lirael wrapped her arms around the Dog’s neck, her friend gave her ear only a small lick, and did not wag her tail.

“Forgive me, Lirael,” she said. “And Abhorsen. I thought it would be safe. I thought she had no interest in the mortal world…but I was wrong, and I put you all in danger.”

“Dog,” Lirael pressed. “Who was that woman?”

“How did she stop the Charter?” Sam added. “and bring the river?”

“It won’t help you to know,” said the Dog. She kept her gaze turned downward, even as Lirael moved to scratch behind her ears. Lirael didn’t think she had ever seen her so humbled. “It won’t help because you still won’t understand. She doesn’t really exist anymore, not how she used to. She probably would have kept on not existing had we gone a different way.”

“Yes but _who_ was she?”

Now the Dog did look up, but it was towards Sabriel, who had an odd expression on her face. “You both know her,” said the Dog. She turned back to Lirael and touched her nose to the last and largest bell on her bandolier.

“That was Astarael?” Lirael breathed.

“Oh,” Sabriel started to lift a hand to her forehead, then let it fall. “Did she intentionally keep Mogget from attacking me?”

The Disreputable Dog gave a little shiver. “More likely she simply wished to speak with him. But in a way you are her children. The Abhorsens…existing outside the bounds of Free Magic and the Charter, wardens of Death…”

Liraels shuddered. The Weeper frightened her like none of the other bells did; she wasn’t sure how she felt about being connected it, to her, in such a way.

“Where’s Mogget?” Sam asked, frowning. “If he’s unbound he’ll try to kill the Abhorsen…Mother, or Lirael…”

“I do not think we have to worry about Mogget,” said the Dog.

This was not particularly reassuring to Lirael, but even as she pondered that, another thought came to her, causing her stomach to clench with worry. “Dog? Why did she let you go? What are…”

“I am the Disreputable Dog,” she said, pressing into Lirael’s embrace. “And your friend, always your friend.”


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was beginning to set by the time Sabriel led them to the base of a long flight of stone stairs. She explained that the stairs would take them all the way to the top of the Long Cliffs. It was a long climb, so the small group decided to camp until just after midnight when the moon would be out in full to light the way and they would have a chance to rest limbs exhausted from the flight out of the cave.

They set up camp in the shadow of the rocks, Sam lighting a small fire to cook the two rabbits that the Disreputable Dog had caught for them. After setting stew to simmer, he looked over and saw that Lirael had fallen asleep. Sabriel sat down next to him.

“Sam, how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said, though part of him was certain that wasn’t true. “You’re the one who’s injured.”

His mother let out a breath of laughter. “I’m alright.”

“Dad would pitch a fit,” Sam said with a slight grin. Then his expression fell. “Do you suppose _he’s_ alright?”

“Charter…I hope so.” Sabriel rubbed both hands over her face. “But we need to focus on finding Nicholas. Honestly I think that is the best way we can help your father at the moment.”

Sam nodded, but couldn’t stop fidgeting. He looked over, not bothering to hide the fact that he was staring worriedly at Sabriel.

The corner of her mouth twitched in a weary, bemused expression. “What?”

“You’re hurt,” Sam said, parroting his earlier words. “You’re hurt, Lirael’s not a proper Abhorsen yet, Mogget’s gone…and we’re rushing head long into this. I mean, Nick’s in trouble and obviously he’s my best friend so I’ll do anything to save him but…” he stopped and squinched up his face.

Sabriel nodded. “This is what we do,” she said quietly. “Besides…my injury from Chlorr is all but completely healed. I will be alright, truly.”

Sam grunted, sounding very much like his father did when displeased.

“Get some sleep, Sam,” Sabriel urged, putting her hand on his back. “Charter knows you’ll need it.”

***

They set out again in the early hours of the morning, with a bright, nearly full moon rising above them. The Dog led the way, followed by Lirael, then Sam with Sabriel bringing up the rear. None of them spoke much, save for the occasional comment on a bird’s nest or interesting rock formation, or Sam’s quiet marveling at the stairs’ construction.

They were still climbing when the pale glow of dawn began to color the sky, sending out bright streaks of pink and red. Then, when they weren’t far from the top, Lirael came to an abrupt stop. She looked back at Sabriel. “Something’s wrong.”

“I know.” Sabriel’s face was set in a look of grim distaste. “I can feel it. Dead, well…death, at least. It’s too faint to be the actual Dead.” She made a forward motion with one hand. “Best continue, but with caution.”

As they came to the top of the steps they were greeted by a breeze that smelled distinctly of carrion. Even if she hadn’t had her Death sense, Lirael would have been able to tell the bodies strewn about the field before her had been dead for several days at least. Crows – living, normal crows – sat on the bodies, cawing and pecking at already ruined flesh. Even Sabriel appeared vaguely sickened by the sight.

“A merchant party,” she said, nudging a silken sleeve with the toe of one boot. “I’d say they’ve been dead about a week now. And I can tell you this was more than just Dead hands who did this.”

Sam frowned, looking over at a guard whose hauberk was pierced through with several large holes. “What could have done that?”

Lirael walked over to the guard. As she circled around she caught a glimpse of his face. She gasped. The stench of rotting flesh filled her lungs and she retched once before vomiting up the small amount of food that had been in her stomach. Nearby she heard Sam do the same, and it was several seconds before either was able to straighten.

“Sorry,” Sam rasped.

Sabriel offered each of them a handkerchief and a sympathetic grimace. “You’ll get used to that smell…unfortunately.”

“I know him,” Lirael whispered. “Or rather…I met him, years ago, when he came to the glacier. He spoke to me in the refectory.” She paused. “It was the same day that I saw you and the king.”

“Strange coincidences…” Sabriel murmured.

The Disreputable Dog, meanwhile, had been turning around the field, nose to the ground as she traced some invisible path between the bodies. Clearly the stench of Death did not bother her quite so much. As Lirael rinsed her mouth out with some water from the canteen, the Dog came circling back to them.

“There was a Free Magic creature here,” she said, ears pricked. “A Ferrenk, possibly…or a jerreq, though it was more likely two Hish. Scavengers, all of them.”

Sam frowned. “If they were scavengers, then what killed all of these people?”

“ _Who_ , I think you mean,” Sabriel said darkly. “This wasn’t Chlorr’s doing, one of the Greater Dead would have left more evidence.”

Lirael caught Sam’s eye and saw the color drain from his cheeks, and the way he tugged at the edge of his sleeves. They were both thinking the same thing: if it wasn’t Chlorr, then it had to have been Hedge. “They’ll probably be at the First Gate,” Lirael said finally. “I could go into Death and - ”

“No,” Sabriel murmured. “There’s little point now, it’s hardly worth the risk. But we can take the time to give them a proper funeral and spare their bodies the further disrespect of being raised as Hands.”

Even working to cast the cremation spell individually, it took them the better part of the morning to burn all the bodies. Lirael counted nearly forty people in all, obviously not including any that might have been devoured before they arrived. Sabriel’s face was set in a determined frown as she worked, but by the time they finished Lirael could see the strain starting to tug at her expression.

“We should rest,” Lirael said. “Have some lunch before we continue.”

To her surprise, Sabriel agreed without protest. “Yes, but not here. Let’s find some place upwind.”

They followed a low stone wall - long fallen into disrepair - westward and up the gentle slope of a small rise.

“Edge and the Red Lake are just north-west of here,” Sabriel said as they sat beneath the sheltering boughs of a large oak tree.

To one side, Lirael could see out across the long cliffs and down yet another steep slope to the remains of the overgrown Old North Road. She gazed northwest for a moment then busied herself rooting through the pack for something to eat. She heard the rustling of fabric next to her, then Sam let out a disgruntled, “ _Mum._ ”   

“Oh, for Charter’s sake, Sameth,” Sabriel muttered. She had taken off her surcoat, leaving her in a light cotton undershirt. Shooting Sam a look she lifted the undershirt just enough to see the healing wound in her side. Lirael looked as well, curious but relieved to see that it now looked several weeks old, just an angry red line against Sabriel’s pale skin.

“Is it still hurting you?” Lirael asked. She hadn’t given much thought to the risks that being an Abhorsen entailed – risks for physical injuries just as much as magical ones.

“A very slight ache every now and then,” Sabriel said, shrugging as she smoothed her shirt down. “I’ll be alright.”

Sam didn’t look entirely convinced of that, but he refrained from saying anything as he retrieved sandwiches from his pack and passed them around. Lirael took one and sat cross-legged on the ground to eat. The Disreputable Dog had taken up a sentinel position nearby, her nose pointed north-west. Chewing thoughtfully, Lirael cast her gaze in that direction as well. She could see distant clouds piling up to the north, mimicking the hunched line of mountains to the west. She guessed that Edge and the Red Lake were near, or on the other side of those mountains.

“It will get more risky to travel the closer we get,” Sabriel said, breaking through Lirael’s thoughtful silence. “Especially since Hedge and Chlorr know I’m around. Night will mean the Dead, and day will mean flocks of Gore Crows at the very least.”

“Don’t you have guards and mages stationed at Roble’s Town?” Sam asked. “We could go there and - ”

But Sabriel shook her head. “That will cause more trouble than it would solve.”

Lirael meanwhile had continued to stare into the distance at the darkening clouds. Swallowing the last of her food she cleared her throat and said, “I have an idea, it won’t be pleasant but it means we won’t have to worry about Gore Crows or the lesser dead.”

Even the Disreputable Dog turned to look at her expectantly.

“Sabriel, you’re good with weather working, right?” Lirael said.

“Yes,” Sabriel said, turning to look north as well. She clearly had guessed where Lirael was headed. “Yes, I could probably manage that with a little assistance.”

Seeing confusion still on Sam’s face, Lirael clarified, “I’m thinking good heavy winds and rain – as I said, unpleasant to travel in, but they should clear out the smaller annoyances…”

Now Sam’s confusion turned to a small grin. “I like it. I always wanted to see Mum summon up a storm.”

***

They decided to travel for the rest of the day, then call the storm after everyone had a chance to rest. Sabriel had not been entirely truthful with Lirael about how much her injury still pained her, but she did not want to worry her – or Sam, for that matter. So she kept on, shooting glances to the clouds and the mountains as they walked.

It was then that she noticed the other clouds, black and sheened with lightning, that hung in the sky above Edge. Sabriel slowed to a stop, squinting at them.

“That would be where Hedge and Nicholas are digging,” said the Disreputable Dog, coming up beside her. “I fear they have already uncovered what they seek.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Sabriel asked, though if the Dog was anything like Mogget, she wasn’t likely to get an answer from her. _Mogget_. Sabriel realized with a sudden pang that she found the idea of not seeing the little cat ever again less agreeable than she had originally guessed she would.

Sam stepped up on her other side. “I don’t think Nick knows he’s doing something wrong.”

“I know,” Sabriel murmured. “That’s what worries me.”

“He’s not a bad person!” Sam insisted.

“Sam…” Sabriel turned to her son, putting her hands on his cheeks for a moment. “I know. I’m worried _for_ him.” _And for all of us_.

***

They continued on, following a small meandering stream. The sun above shone brightly, but the group’s attention was on the clouds in the distance, the ones they would be calling down later. When the sun began to set they stopped and made camp, hoping to rest a little before attempting their weather working.

Gingerly, Lirael touched her nose and cheeks; hours walking under the bright sun had left her skin splotched with sunburn. She cast a lightly resentful look at Sam, who had his father’s complexion and like the Clayr simply turned a darker shade of brown.

Sabriel sat down next to her and took Lirael’s chin in one hand. “Face me a moment,” she said, and when Lirael complied, she smoothed a cool, soothing salve on her burns before doing the same to her own.

“We should all try to get some sleep…” Sam said before yawning loudly.

Lirael nodded. “Dog, can you keep watch?”

“I can, but there may be rabbits…”

“Just don’t chase them out of sight,” Lirael murmured, already slumping down, eyes drooping. “And save some for us if you catch them.”

The Dog let out a grumbling snort, but said, “Yes mistress. I’ll wake you in a few hours, shall I?”

None of the three humans responded, as they had already fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep.

***

The Dog roused them some time later and cold water from the stream nearby woke them further. Even with a sky lit by star and moonlight, the rain clouds were all but invisible. Sabriel at least was certain that they still hung in the sky.

“We should be ready to move as soon as the spell is cast,” she added while checking her pack. “Magic on this scale will no doubt attract the attention of the Dead.”

Lirael nodded. She had wanted to press on quickly anyway. They repacked their gear and huddled together. Sabriel was squinting northward with an expression that Lirael was beginning to recognize as her own brand of barely-concealed worry.

“Sam and I will help you cast the spell,” Lirael said firmly.

For a brief moment she thought Sabriel was about to tell her off, but the Abhorsen only gave a weary nod. “Alright, lets get this finished.”

“I actually have an idea,” Sam said. “It’s a big different, but I think it could make the overall casting stronger and easier for each of us…”

Lirael half listened as he described a plan for each of them to cast part of the spell in harmony. She was focused on the Dog, who was sniffing curiously at the air around them as a breeze picked up. Eventually Lirael caught her eye, but the Dog said nothing, her tongue lolling out in an innocent canine smile. Despite that expression, Lirael could see a tension in her friend’s body, and that did nothing to dispel her own worries.

***

Two days after they cast their spell, the rain was still coming down in torrents. Even Sabriel had started to show just how tired and fed up she was with slogging through the mud hour after hour, soaked to the bone. She and Lirael talked when they could, though most of their conversations consisted of Sabriel attempting to ask questions, and Lirael replying only with half hearted, two word answers. At least the rain was warm.

Then, just as they reached the foothills of Mt. Abed, they came upon a dying royal guard propped up against a tree. The woman was barely conscious, terribly wounded, blood soaking through the dark red of her uniform. Sabriel was the first to spot her and rushed over, Charter marks for healing flaring under her fingers as she knelt.

The spell was just enough to help the woman open her eyes. She coughed, and more blood ran down over her chin. When Sabriel grasped her hand, the woman gave a shuddering breath, gazing at her with recognition in her pain-clouded eyes.

“Ah-Abhorsen…” she rasped, struggling a little as though to sit up. “M-my lady…f-f-forgive…”

“Shhh,” Sabriel murmured with surprising tenderness. “It’s alright. What is your name?”

“Mareyn,” the woman whispered. She managed to tighten her grasp on Sabriel’s hand. “Abh…Abhor…a necromancer, he…he’s trying to…trying…” Her voice broke and she let out a pained groan, eyes closing for a moment.

Sabriel leaned in a little. “Mareyn? Can you…”

But it was clear that Mareyn could not elaborate. She did not open her eyes again, but turned her head towards Sabriel, managing only to whisper, “Abhorsen…please…”

Lirael frowned, but Sabriel had clearly understood the request. Still holding the woman’s hand, she said softly, “Thank you, Mareyn, for all you have done for us. Go swiftly, and find your peace beyond the Ninth Gate.” She leaned in, pursing her lips as though to kiss Mareyn’s cheek, but instead she whistled a single note laden with Charter magic.

Mareyn’s body relaxed, her last breath leaving her lips as a soft, relieved sigh.

“Why did you do that?!” Lirael exclaimed, alarmed. “She had more to tell us! We need to hear what she knew about the necromancer, we have to follow her…”

“Lirael no its -” Sabriel began, but before she could finish Lirael had already stepped into Death. Cursing under her breath, Sabriel rubbed her hand over her face.

“I’ll go after her,” offered the Disreputable Dog, barely waiting for Sabriel’s nod of assent before she too vanished into Death.

Sam looked at his mother with wide eyes. “Will she be alright?”

“I think so, yes,” Sabriel said. She carefully folded Mareyn’s arms over her chest, shifting the guard’s body so she was lying on the ground. “We need to keep watch over Lirael’s body, and burn Mareyn’s so no one will disturb her.”

Sam nodded and loosened his sword in its scabbard. He scanned the woods around them, but they were still and dark. He wasn’t sure what to make of Lirael’s abrupt venture into Death; he certainly wouldn’t have done it, but a part of him seriously hoped that she would find something useful. Something to help Nick.

The sound of a snapping twig had Sam instantly on alert. He looked around, then looked to Sabriel, who was focused on casting the cremation spell over Mareyn’s body. He rested one hand on the pommel of his sword, then, just as he turned, saw something that looked suspiciously like a man dressed all in white disappear into the underbrush.

Sam let out a shout, reacting before he really thought, and ran after whatever it was, though as he burst through the underbrush he found no one on the other side.

“Are you just going to leave your mother and aunt unprotected like that?” drawled a voice from behind him.

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin. “Mogget!” he gasped when he turned. “What – where…?”

“Though,” Mogget continued, ignoring Sam’s question, “your mother has proven herself unfortunately difficult to get rid of…”

Choosing to not focus on the direction that comment went, Sam grabbed Mogget by the collar, tucking the now disgruntled cat under his arm before starting back.

“Sam?” Sabriel visibly relaxed when he appeared, but tensed again when she saw Mogget. “What…”

“Do not fear, mistress,” Mogget said, voice dripping with lament. “I am properly bound once again.”

Sabriel did not relax. “How did you escape?”

“And who was the man I saw in the woods?” Sam added.

“The was me,” Mogget said, hopping down. “But certain Abhorsens do not like me using that form around them. As for the other query, do not concern yourselves with that…”

Before either Sabriel or Sam could press him about that, there came the sound of cracking ice and they turned to see Lirael returning to life, the Dog appearing beside her. Though wide-eyed and shivering, Lirael appeared in general to be unharmed.

“H-Hedge,” she began haltingly. “He’s…they’re digging up something near…Mogget?”

The cat glanced up at her for only a second before resuming his preening.

Sabriel stepped forward. “Lirael? What about Hedge?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “They’re digging something up near Edge but…I don’t know what it is.”

To everyone’s surprise it was Mogget who spoke, his tone dark; “I know what it is.”

“Is that why _she_ let you go?” snapped the Dog.

“Perhaps,” he said, giving the Dog a very feline sneer. “Or perhaps she wished to give me a second chance.”

The Dog snorted.

“Mogget,” Sabriel said sharply. “What is buried there?”

“The end,” Mogget said. “The Destroyer. The Unmaker. The Unraveler who is called – “

The Disreputable Dog snarled, lunging at Mogget who sprang back hissing and spitting. “Do not speak its name!” the Dog barked. “Not so close to where it was buried!”

Silence followed that outburst. Lirael sucked in her breath, taking a long time before she glanced at the others. Sabriel appeared blank, Sam terrified. The Dog and Mogget were still locked in a stand-off.

Finally, Sabriel cleared her throat. “We need to keep going,” she said quietly.

Then she looked to Lirael, her gaze seeking confirmation. It startled Lirael a little, that the Abhorsen was waiting for her to agree. And even as she nodded the gravity of the situation began to sink in; she really was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting now, and with each step she took beside Sabriel, her life as a Clayr slipped further and further away.

***

They pressed onward, certain that the spell would have called any and all Dead Hands in the area, but they reached the ridge unbothered by anything besides the wind and rain. Peering down the other side of the ridge they could see all the way to the dark expanse of the Red Lake; Nick and Hedge’s pit was there as well, an ugly mar on the face of the earth. Lightening struck almost continuously at the ground around the pit, sending up hot white flashes.

Sabriel and Lirael crouched at the top of the ridge with the Disreputable Dog between them. Sam dropped to his knees behind them with a sigh. “Do you see anything?”

“They’re moving something towards the lake,” Sabriel said, and Lirael squinted until she too could see the moving mass of the Dead, pushing and dragging some large object. When the lightening flashed it reflected off the shining surface of whatever it was. “Something large and metallic.”

“Two silver hemispheres,” said the Disreputable Dog, sounding grim. Lirael felt her stiffen, and her voice lowered, “There is something bound in them, an ancient power from before the beginning…”

“It’s that thing Mogget spoke of, isn’t it?” Lirael asked quietly. “The Destroyer?”

The Dog nodded.

Sabriel glanced at her. “But it _is_ still bound, isn’t it?”

“For now.” The Dog finally relaxed then, or more accurately her whole body drooped, sinking down until her head rested on her front paws. She turned her eyes to Lirael. “But no doubt they plan to bring the hemispheres together, and then it will be released. Though I do not know where…or how. I am sorry…I failed you, mistress.”

Lirael looked down. She didn’t think she had ever seen the Dog so dejected, and now she had no idea what to do about it. She looked to Sabriel, who appeared pensive but undaunted as ever: the exact opposite of what Lirael felt.

“We need to rescue Nick,” Sam said nervously, after everyone had been silent for just a little too long.

“That’s it!” Lirael exclaimed. “Nick will know where they’re taking the hemispheres, we just have to get to him…”

Mogget stood up and stretched, then looked at Sabriel, saying, “She even plans like you.”

Sabriel rolled her eyes, but otherwise did not respond to the cat. “Lirael, what are you thinking exactly? Even we can’t just waltz in there and demand that Hedge hand Nick over.”

“Of course not,” Lirael said. She mulled it over, the seed of an idea beginning to blossom in her mind. Finally, biting her lip she said haltingly, “Actually, I think…I think my plan might be better if you and Sam stay here…”

“I can’t let you go down there by yourself,” Sabriel said, frowning deeply. “Not with all those enemies. You aren’t -”

“I won’t be alone,” Lirael said quickly. “The Dog will be with me. And I’ll be in disguise. I can wear a Charter skin of an owl and we’ll fly down there together…”

But Sabriel still looked skeptical. “And then what?”

“Then…” Lirael faltered. “Then we’ll lead them out.”

“I still don’t like it,” Sabriel said. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair shaking droplets of water and mud from her fingers. “I don’t like it.”

“What would you do?” Lirael asked, and she realized she sounded more petulant than she intended, but she was so exhausted and worried by this point that it didn’t matter. “If _you_ just walked down there Hedge and the Dead would notice, even if you were being cautious. You’re still not fully recovered and then where would we be?”

Sam was gaping at Lirael in obvious shock of seeing someone try to boss his mother around, but he gave himself a little shake and added, “She does kind of have a point, Mum…”

“I can do this,” Lirael said firmly, keeping her eyes fixed on Sabriel’s.

“Nicholas may be under the sway of the necromancer,” Sabriel said quietly, holding Lirael’s gaze. “Bring him back, but do not try to engage Hedge. We can’t afford to lose you either.”

Lirael nodded, fighting to keep her expression confident as a surge of anxiety rose within her. “I won’t. An if I get into trouble I could…I don’t know, signal you in some way.”

“Or just don’t get into trouble,” Sabriel said, with the barest hint of a smile. Then she stepped forward and kissed Lirael’s forehead. “We’ll be waiting for you.”


	9. Chapter 9

After Lirael left, Sam and Sabriel moved a little way down the ridge to wait for her on the shore of a small stream. Sam had a nervous energy crawling along his limbs, due in part to the fact that there was nothing at this moment that he could do directly to help Nick. And yet this was _his_ fault; if Nick had never met him, if they had never became friends, Nick wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

“What do we do next?” he asked abruptly. “Assuming we are able to get Nick away from Hedge.”

“We go south,” Sabriel said. “Send Nicholas to Corvere to keep him safe, then I will try to recruit as many as I can to help prevent those hemispheres from crossing the wall.”

Sam had crouched down to sit on a mostly dry stone. He shifted uncomfortably. “Will that be difficult? Getting the army to help you, I mean.”

“Charter, I hope not,” Sabriel said. She sat down across from him, checking that her sword was still loose in its scabbard. “The Crossing Point Scouts usually cooperate with me at least.”

“Good,” Sam looked down at his hands. He sniffed. “I wish he wasn’t so stupid.”

His mother raised her eyebrows. “Who? Nicholas?”

“Yeah, he’s _so_ smart, but he’s also _so_ stupid.”

“Mmm,” Sabriel leaned back a little. “I could say the same about you.”

Sam scowled. “Mum." 

“Sorry.” She smiled good naturedly, and leaned forward to pat his arm. “We will get him back, Sam, I promise.”

Sam nodded, but he could see the worry hiding behind his mother’s carefully controlled expression. Carefully controlled, but still very obviously exhausted. “You should get some sleep,” he said. “I can keep watch.”

Sabriel nodded, sliding down so she was leaning back against the rock. Sam picked up the bow and arrows Lirael had left them. While Sabriel rested, he sat on the end of a log that lay half submerged in the stream. He worked on imbuing the two dozen or so arrows with Charter spells, figuring they would need any help they could get at this point. The setting sun was throwing the already shadowed area into twilight. Slipping the last arrow back into the quiver, Sam looked around. He couldn’t see anything moving, and it was too dark to even hop to discern anything standing still.

Something white flashed at the edge of his vision and Sam jumped to his feet. “Mogget? Is that you?" 

“Of course it’s me, you idiot,” Mogget said as he stepped out of the underbrush. “Who else would it be? Where’s your mother?”

“I’m here,” Sabriel said as she stepped up beside them. “Mogget, what is it? What’s coming?”

“About two-hundred Dead hands,” Mogget replied. 

Sabriel’s eye widened a little. “And what about Lirael?”

“I heard the Disgusting Dog bark earlier, and I believe she is headed this way – Ah,” Mogget turned at the sound of something crashing through the trees. “That will be her now.”

Sure enough the Disreputable Dog burst out of the undergrowth, soaking wet and panting heavily. “Quickly! We must move!”

No sooner had she spoken than she was off running again alongside the stream. Sabriel took off after her, and Sam grabbed the pack and followed, mostly focused on not tripping into the stream. 

“Lirael…” he panted when he caught up with the others. “Nick?”

“We were separated,” the Dog explained. “Then the necromancer showed up and I could not follow lest I lead him to her…”

Sabriel, who had slowed to look back over her shoulder, came to a complete stop and swore loudly. Sam looked back over his shoulder as well to see what had startled her, though he nearly tripped in the process and had to grab his mother’s arm to right himself.

On the opposite shore of the stream, back by the fallen log stood a solid mass of the Dead. Hundreds of them. At the very center a lone figure stood out, sitting astride a skeletal horse and wreathed in flame. Cold swept through Sam at the realization of who it was.

Hedge was shouting something, a spell, and before Sam could think he had knocked an arrow to the bowstring. Sabriel started to say something, but Sam had already loosed the arrow.

Thanks to the Charter spells laid into its shaft, the arrow found its mark, burying itself deep into Hedge’s throat with a shower of sparks. Hedge’s horse reared, throwing him before it dove into the river to seek a final death. Sam held his breath, watching, but Hedge rose again, plucking the arrow from his throat and looking mildly annoyed, if anything. He turned, then used the arrow to point directly at them. Even from such a distance they heard his roar of, “ _Abhorsen!_ ”

"Oh, Sameth..." Sabriel sighed. She looked at him. "Go! Do not waste another arrow on him, go find Lirael.”

“But…” Sam began to protest.

“ _Go_!” Sabriel turned back to face the necromancer, drawing her sword and Saraneth.

Sam held his breath again. Hedge was laughing and took one step forward into the river. Steam rose up around him in a thick, hissing cloud and Sam realized with a sinking feeling that Hedge planned to simply boil the stream dry and lead his army of the Dead across. Sam also knew he could not leave his mother to face that on her own. Taking a deep breath he stepped forward to her side.

“Sameth, I said go!” Sabriel hissed.

Sam looked at her and shook his head. He held his mother’s gaze for a moment then turned…and did a double take. Hedge was gone. The steam was blowing away, leaving nothing in its wake save for the mass of Dead hands turning to walk off up the river in the opposite direction.

“What…” Sabriel said, looking around.

“It would seem they found something even more interesting to do than slay the Abhorsen,” drawled Mogget from somewhere around their feet.

Sam turned to scowl down at the cat. “He wouldn’t have been able to.”

“I hate to break it to you, my prince,” Mogget said dryly, “But even your fabled mother would not last long against that many Dead and a fully charged necromancer. Look, she knows I’m not wrong.”

“Be quiet, Mogget,” Sabriel said, but she did not contradict what he said.  She looked back again, doing nothing to disguise the concern on her face. “Hedge has either gone back to the hemispheres or…or after Lirael. Either way we need to follow the Dog.” She caught Sam’s eye.

“Yeah,” Sam said, swallowing down his fear that Hedge would spring out at them any moment. He hefted his pack, then followed after his mother as she started down the river in the direction that the Dog had gone.

***

The Red lake stretched out before them, reeds and water and mud. Sabriel shielded her eyes with one hand but could not see any sign of Lirael or the Disreputable Dog. Whenever the wind picked up it brought with it the smell of Free Magic. She found herself wishing that she had the trained bands – or better yet, a whole army of Charter mages – so she could simply march into Hedge’s camp and dispel of him. But if he _and_ Chlorr - 

“What now?” came Sam’s voice.

“I’m not sure what else we can do other than wait for her,” Sabriel murmured. “This is where the Clayr Saw her.”

Sam made an unhappy little grunt, but nodded.

Sabriel nodded towards some low trees and they moved to wait in their shadow, somewhere they could see the lake but not be seen. Sabriel put her hand to her side for a moment. The pain from the wound from Chlorr had dulled significantly, but here, so close to a high concentration of Free Magic, it flared up from time to time.

She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced at Sam. Something about the way he was sitting made him look even more like his father than normal. He always resembled Touchstone more than her, but now something about the grimly determined set of his jaw, the crease of his brow…

“What?” Sam asked, looking mildly embarrassed.

Sabriel just shook her head, smiling to herself.

***

It was quite some time before Lirael reappeared, and when she did it was with the Disreputable Dog – but not Nick. Still, Sabriel’s instinct was to first make sure Lirael was alright, then ask questions later. Sam watched with an anxious expression even after Sabriel declared Lirael to be ‘just fine.’

Then, finally, Lirael looked at him. “I lost Nick, Sam…”

“Lost him?” Sam asked, his mouth dry.

“There’s a fragment of the Destroyer in him,” Lirael said. “It pulled him back, I couldn’t get him to come with…” Now she glanced to Sabriel. “They’re taking the hemispheres to Ancelstierre, to a lightning farm near somewhere called Forwin Mill.”

Sabriel let out a weary sigh, nodding. She looked back over her shoulder towards the Red Lake and the quarry that was on the other side. Sam could tell she was weighing her options, though she didn’t appear pleased with any of them. Finally she sighed and said slowly, “I could… _I_ could force him to come with.”

There was a note of such reluctance in her voice that Sam actually felt afraid. He swallowed. “But…?”

“But,” Sabriel said, not looking at either of them. “I would be killed in the process.”

Sam felt dizzy, swaying slightly on his feet. “You don’t know that!”

“I do,” Sabriel said through clenched teeth. “They Saw it. The Clayr. I can rescue Nick right now but I will die.”

It was Lirael who spoke next, mostly because Sam could not. “But could you stop the hemispheres? If you go in there will you just rescue Nick, or will you also stop them from crossing?”

Sabriel shook her head. “No. They would still cross.”

“Either way it isn’t worth it,” Lirael said. “We’ll have other chances to rescue Nick but we need you.”

Sam let out a breath, silently thanking her. Sabriel did not argue and instead stooped to retrieve one of the packs. She jerked her head to indicate they should keep walking. Sam did, but he cleared his throat and asked, “What happens when the hemispheres are brought together? Er, _if_ they’re brought together.”

“The end of all things,” said the Dog grimly. “Total destruction, as that is the Destroyer’s only purpose.”

Sabriel frowned. “You still haven’t told us what the Destroyer is, exactly.”

The Disreputable Dog looked uncomfortable, and whined when Lirael glared at her. “It is the ninth bright shiner. The one who fought the Seven at the beginning. It has a true name, but…”

“But what?” Sabriel pressed.

“But you must not speak it.” The Dog gave herself a shake, then extended one claw to write a single word in the dirt: Orannis. “It was bound long ago, with the intent that it should never be released.”

“But here we are,” Sabriel said, and even to herself her words sounded full of bravado. “Now how do I go about dealing with it?”

At that Mogget – who had until then had been silent – began to laugh. “Deal with it? This is not some necromancer, Abhorsen. It will take more than a sword and some fancy bell work to ‘deal’ with this. Even Kerrigor pales in - ”

“It was bound once, it can be bound again,” Lirael interjected, sensing Sabriel’s growing irritation. “But it may not even come to that. We still have a chance of preventing it from crossing the Wall in the first place. But to even hope of doing that we need to get to Ancelstierre, and quickly.”

Sabriel let out a heavy sigh, brushing a few errant strands of hair back from her face. Still, she nodded. “We can go to Barhedrin, there’ll be at least a small regiment of my guards there…”

Lirael shook her head. “No. There isn’t time for that, the hemispheres are already on the move and we _must_ get across the Wall before they do.”

“What are you suggesting, then?” Sabriel asked, just a bit testily. “That we fly there?”

A slow smile spread across Lirael’s face. “Actually, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

***

Even in the form of a giant owl with all its excess strength, Lirael was completely exhausted by the time they landed in the borderlands near the crossing point. Carrying both Sabriel and Sam had been nearly too much for her, and she lay stunned for a good two minutes before hauling herself to her feet.

Looking around, Lirael saw the dark shape of the wall some ways away. “So,” she panted. “Do we just…walk across?”

Sam had been wondering the same thing. Usually his crossings were planned well in advance, with the crossing point scouts expecting his arrival. He knew they were trained to be cautious of anything coming over from the Old Kingdom, and wasn’t sure of the procedures, though his mother had to have made unplanned crossings in the past.

“Essentially,” Sabriel said. “If we approach on the road the scouts will see us coming and send a group to meet us. Just don’t make any sudden movements.” The last bit was said with a mostly teasing tone.

Lirael nodded. She and Sam fell into step on either side of Sabriel, with the Dog trotting alongside. When they were within a few hundred yards of the gate, sure enough she saw a group of heavily armed soldiers marching towards them. Their uniforms were strange to her, though she had seen sketches of Ancelstierran clothing in books, and she guessed these had to be the Crossing Point Scouts that Sam and Sabriel had mentioned.

The man at the front of the group did not look much older than Lirael, but he carried himself with straight-backed confidence. “Halt!” he barked when he was close enough. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Sabriel obliged, keeping her hands slightly lifted, palms facing the man. She did not seem in the least bit alarmed or put off by the order, which was all that kept Lirael from worrying at the moment. “Lieutenant Tindall,” Sabriel said with a light smile. “You’re looking well.”

“Your Majesty?” Tindall said. His eyes darted to Lirael and Sam, then back to Sabriel, his brow furrowed in consternation. “No one told - ”

“No one knows I’m coming,” Sabriel said. “Bit of an emergency, you see.”

Tindall did not seem surprised by that, and motioned for his men to fan out before he stepped closer to Sabriel, lifting two fingers. “May I?”

“By all means.” Sabriel brushed her hair back from her face, inclining her head slightly so Tindall could touch her Charter mark. It glowed briefly and Tindall stepped back, turning to Sam. Sabriel said, “You remember my son, Prince Sameth…”

“Highness,” Tindall said with a slight bow, before touching Sam’s mark as well.

Then Sabriel indicated Lirael, “And this is my sister, the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, Lirael.”

Tindall turned to Lirael and hesitated a moment before settling on, “My Lady,” and giving her a small bow as well.

Lirael said nothing as he tested her mark, and kept her eyes on the ground when he stepped away. The little bow and fumbling for the appropriate honorific was just another strange little reminder of what it meant to be the queen’s sister. Would she have a title beyond Abhorsen-in-Waiting? Would she have to appear at court? The thought made her a little queasy.

 _You only have to worry about that if any of you survive this_ , said a nasty little voice in the back of her head.

Lirael gave herself a shake. “We will survive this,” she whispered, though she did not realize she had spoken aloud until Sabriel grasped her arm and gave her a reassuring look.

“Now,” Sabriel said, turning to Tindall as they made their way through the gate, the soldiers flanking the little trio. “Who is the CO on duty?”

“That would be Major Greene, Abhorsen,” Tindall said. “We can take you straight to him…there’s been some strange things happening here lately, to tell you the truth no one is all that surprised to see you…”

Lirael was momentarily distracted from her internal fretting as they stepped through the gate. It was as though they had passed through some sort of invisible curtain into a place where the air was just slightly cooler, the alignment of stars above their heads (though fading quickly, there must be clouds moving in) strangely unfamiliar. The _things_ that made up the perimeter were strange as well – enormous carts with fat, rubber covered wheels and no immediately obvious means of propulsion, coils and coils of wire with strange little spikey knots on it, a shrill voice coming from a little box, bright lights that burned with no flame or Charter mark…

“Mechanics and technology,” Sam muttered to her. “Welcome to Ancelstierre.”

“It smells funny,” was all Lirael could come up with as a reply as they passed one of the giant covered carts.

Sam glanced at it as well. “Gasoline. That’s a truck, we’ll probably have to ride in one.” Beside him, the Disreputable Dog let out a displeased growl.

Tindall lead them past more groups of uniformed men, low stone buildings and strange machines that Lirael guessed were some sort of weapon. The men stared at them as they passed, but Lirael steadfastly avoided meeting anyone’s gaze. Finally, Tindall led them down a few short steps and through a door into one of the funny little buildings, which turned out to contain a fairly cluttered office.

The officer on duty, Major Greene, was a large man, red faced and rather cantankerous looking. His slight frown changed to a look of surprise when they entered however and he immediately got to his feet. “Your Majesty…”

“Major,” Sabriel said, nodding, though there was more of an urgent tone to her voice now. “We need to get through to Colonel Dwyer, it’s a rather drastic emergency…”

Lirael saw an odd expression cross Major Greene’s face as he looked at Sabriel. Sympathy? Concern? But he clearly knew exactly who and what Sabriel was so she couldn’t imagine what would prompt that reaction.

Sabriel either missed the look entirely or did not think they had time for questions. “Major,” she said a little more sternly. “There is something very dangerous and very ancient being brought over from my kingdom – we _cannot_ allow it to cross the wall.”

“What?” Greene gave himself a shake. “Where…?”

“They’re taking it to a place called the Lightning Farm, near…near Forwin Mill,” said Lirael.

“It’s to the west,” Sam added.

“You need to contact Perimeter HQ,” Sabriel said. She was only an inch or so taller than the Major, but for a moment she appeared to positively loom over him.

Greene looked at her for only a second before he shook himself and nodded. “Right! Follow me.”

Back outside they went, following Greene at a brisk pace down a paved service road. No  one spoke as they walked, Sabriel’s face set in a look of grim determination, Sam’s in one of strained anxiety. They walked for about twenty minutes until they came to yet another little building.

Inside, Greene began barking orders to the private on duty at the switchboard. Sabriel steered Sam and Lirael over to the side to wait while Greene contacted the perimeter headquarters, talking in quick, hushed tones. Lirael glanced at Sabriel, who stood very straight and very still, one hand resting on the pommel of her sword. She did not move until Greene walked back over to them.

“There’s an incursion happening at the western perimeter,” he said lowly. “Reports of distress rockets…and we’ve lost communication entirely with a good part of that end. I’ve been ordered to stay here.”

“Stay here?!” Lirael exclaimed, surprising everyone. “But we have to warn - ”

“Your ‘ancient evil’ will probably be across already,” Greene said grimly. “There’s little use in warnings at this point.”

Still looking slightly agape, Lirael turned to Sabriel, who was rubbing her forehead. Finally Sabriel sighed and said wearily, “Major, are you able to get through to Corvere? I need to get a message to my husband.”

All the color drained from Major Greene’s face, and little beads of sweat appeared along his brow. Slowly he raised a hand to his jaw, rubbing at the faint stubble there. “Ah…”

Sabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Major?”

Greene did not answer her at first, instead he turned to the couple other men in the room and barked, “You lot, out. We need a moment.”

Lirael frowned, wondering what this could possibly be about. Again she looked to Sabriel – and saw a look that could only be described as sheer panic on her face. Past her, Sam caught Lirael’s eye and he looked worried as well. Greene was taking his time closing the door.

“Major!” Sabriel snapped, her apparent worry seeping into her voice. “Answer me!”

Greene rubbed his nose, took a deep breath, then snapped to attention, clasping his hands behind his back and tilting his chin up. “Your Majesty,” he said heavily. “I am…so deeply sorry. I thought you would have been told…There was an attack, a bomb, two weeks ago in Corvere. I am so sorry…the king is dead.”

The major might as well have turned Sabriel to stone. She stared straight ahead, her gaze fixed on the wall behind Greene, her lips drawn to a hard line. She even appeared to be holding her breath. Then, beside her, Sam let out a startled little sob and clamped his hands over his mouth, though he was unable to hide the tears that sprang into his eyes.

Slowly Sabriel put her hand on his back and Sam leaned against her, trembling as he fought to control himself. Lirael felt cold inside, like someone had poured a pint of ice water down her throat. She couldn’t fathom what was going through Sabriel’s mind at that moment.

Greene too seemed unsure of what to do, so he stood there, silent for just as long as Sabriel was.

Then like a dreamer struggling to wake from a nightmare, Sabriel’s gaze refocused on him. “Wyverly,” she said hoarsely.

“Beg pardon?” Green asked.

“Wyverly College,” Sabriel said, a new kind of hardness coming into her voice. “Can you get a call through?”

“We ah,” Greene hesitated, though Lirael thought vaguely that she wouldn’t have it Sabriel was looking at her like that. “Lockdown procedures, Abhorsen, we’re not supposed to contact civilian - ”

Sabriel’s nostril’s flared. “Stuff your bloody procedures, Major. At least _try_ to get through to Wyverly or I will do far worse than anything your superior officers could even imagine. Do I make myself clear?” Even Sam looked taken aback by that, looking up at his mother, eyes still red, lips parted in surprise.

“Yes, Abhorsen,” Major Greene said. He looked…relieved, Lirael thought, though perhaps he saw the threat as a reasonable excuse to break the standard rules.

Before Greene could open the door however, Sabriel cleared her throat and asked in careful, forced calm, “Who did it?”

“Sorry?” Greene looked back at her.

“The bombing,” Sabriel said, her voice low. “Who did it?”

“Corolini’s people, we think,” Greene said, letting his hand fall from the doorknob for a moment. “The demonstrators, I should say.”

Slowly, Sabriel turned to sit in a wooden chair behind her, leaning back and resting her hands on the arms. She looked up at Greene. “And were any other foreign dignitaries attacked in the streets of your capitol? Any other foreign leaders?”

“No, ma’am,” Greene said, swallowing thickly. “I believe the Ancelstierre army and city police provided security…”

“And yet,” Sabriel said, “Armed terrorists were roaming the streets of your largest city and just so happened to target my husband when there was no one there to stop them?”

Greene was quiet for a long moment before he said, “It’s a travesty, Abhorsen. If my government let this happen…”

“If your government let my husband die,” Sabriel said. “Then once I am done here I will leave, but not before breaking every last wind flute and ward of protection I or my ancestors have placed here. And Charter help you all if you elect Corolini as your chief minister for I will not have that poison festering so close to my borders, I will eradicate it, do you understand me?”

Greene said nothing. He stared at the floor for a long time, the turned and pushed the door open, stepping outside before closing it behind him.

“Charter help the Ancelstierrans if you declare war on them,” Mogget said, stepping out of Sam’s backpack and walking over to look up at Sabriel. “But Charter help _you_ even more. You speak of festering poison, mistress? I have seen more than one Abhorsen consumed by grief and anger until they become the exact thing they swore to protect against!”

Sam let out a noise. “She wouldn’t…”

“No?” Mogget put his paws on Sabriel’s knees so he was partially standing. “The Old Kingdom has no military, not one to rival Ancelstierre’s. Tell me, Sameth, what do you have plenty of? What do all necromancers take advantage of when it comes down to it?”

“They killed my husband,” Sabriel whispered.

Mogget’s green eyes focused on her again. “Before you go threatening anyone else, look your son in the eye and tell him what the Clayr Saw nineteen years ago when you first became queen. Tell him about the warning they gave you.”

“Mum?” Sam said, looking at her with a worried expression. Sabriel tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair, but said nothing.

Mogget, in turn, seemed only too delighted to answer his own request. “Your mother, Prince, is one of the most powerful Abhorsens in history – both in her magical prowess and her political position. The only thing separating Abhorsens from Necromancers is intent, and if you don’t think the Clayr were just a _little_ concerned when your father took an Abhorsen queen…” He looked back at Sabriel. “If it comes to that, you may wish to consider taking Chlorr to rule beside you, she would keep you humbled.”

“She wouldn’t do any of that,” Sam said again, his voice shaking.

“Your mother has the potential to be very, very dangerous,” Mogget said. “And as delightful as her turning would be to witness, I do not particularly want to deal with subjection to a necromancer queen.”

Lirael swallowed down the lump in the back of her throat. She had one hand resting on the Disreputable Dog, and could feel that her friend was tense and ready to spring into action, though what sort of action, Lirael was unsure. She turned to Sabriel. “What did the Clayr See?”

“They Saw me defending my people with an army of the Dead and Free Magic creatures to rival anything Kerrigor might have raised,” Sabriel said lowly. “It was…effective.”

It was the hard glint in her eye that made Lirael tense up again. Worry rushed over her, worry that she would not be able to break her sister of this fixation, worry that they had lost Sabriel’s help in fighting the Destroyer, that they had already lost her…

Then Sam stepped forward, abruptly pushing Sabriel’s shoulder so she turned and looked up at him. “Dad would _never_ forgive you for doing something like that!” he said heatedly. “Especially not in his name, and neither would me or Elli. You’re the Abhorsen you…you…” He lost his momentary burst of confidence then and whispered, “Mum…please…”

Just like that the fury in Sabriel’s expression fell away. Her shoulders slumped and she put her hand over her eyes for a moment, but nodded, saying, “I know, I _know_ , Sam…Charter…”

The door opened again and they all looked up. A lanky private hurried in and resumed his position at the switchboard. Greene followed, walking a bit hesitantly over to Sabriel. “Can I get you anything, Abhorsen?”

“No,” Sabriel said quietly. “Thank you, Major.”

They did not have to wait long until the private turned to Sabriel. “I have Wyverly College on the line, ma’am, it’s a bit of a fuzzy connection but it should be fine.”

Sabriel got to her feet and took the handset from him. “Hello? Yes I need to speak with Ms. Umbrade…tell her it’s Elli’s mother. Hurry.” A long pause in which Sabriel tapped her foot on the ground, then, “Gretchen? Charter. Is everything alright there? Good…yes…no, but you should get the girls into lock down…” Another drawn out pause, then Sabriel said a bit quieter, “Yes, I’ve left the castle.”

Lirael frowned and looked at Sam, who whispered, “Means she’s in Ancelstierre. They made up code just in case…well for situations like this.”

“What’s the weather like in the north?” Sabriel asked then. She listened for some time before sighing, not unhappily. “Thank you, Gretchen. Please stay safe. I’ll try to send word.” She hung up the phone and walked back over to Lirael and Sam, deliberately turning her back on the others.

“What did she say?” Sam whispered. “Is Dad…”

“Ms. Umbrade did not know for sure,” Sabriel whispered. “But she had a message from one of the safe houses which strongly implied that your father is…that your father is alive and making his way north.”

Sam made a strangled noise and looked like he was trying very hard not to smile. Sabriel abruptly pulled him close, pressing his face to her shoulder. “We cannot let anyone – even Major Greene – know he _may_ be alive, do you understand?”

After a moment Sam nodded against her shoulder and Sabriel let him go. Taking a deep breath he wiped his hands over his eyes and asked, “So what do we do now?”

“We do what Abhorsens do,” Sabriel said, looking to Lirael. “We stop the Destroyer or die trying.”


	10. Chapter 10

Lirael woke with a start, feeling for a brief moment nothing but confusion and disorientation. It was dark, she was in some closed in space…a hand touched her shoulder.  

“It’s alright,” Sabriel murmured. “We’ve stopped.” 

Sitting up, Lirael remembered that they were in the back of one of the strange mechanical conveyances Sam had said was called a truck. She was next to Sabriel, the Dog sitting at her feet and Sam across from them. Of course in the darkness of the truck she could only just make out their forms, though a little more light filtered in as Sabriel peeked through a gap in the heavy canvas. 

“All the trucks have stalled,” she said lowly. “The wind is almost westerly, we must be too close to the hemispheres.” 

There were sounds from outside the trucks now; shouting and the pounding of hobnailed boots on pavement, and odd distant rumblings that Lirael could tell weren’t thunder. Then Sabriel got up, pushing through the back flap of the truck and climbing out. The Dog followed, with Lirael next and Sam last. Turning, Lirael could tell now that the rumbling was coming from the south, and was accompanied by strange flashes of light. 

“What is that?” she asked, pointing. 

“Artillery,” Sam said. “Guns. Explosive weapons that Ancelstierrans use, they’re really…unpleasant.”  

"And bloody useless at this point,” Major Greene said as he came jogging over to them. He motioned and the group began walking quickly with him down the road. “We’re about sixteen miles from Forwin Mill, three miles from the perimeter’s western strong point.” 

They hadn’t been walking long before they came upon a single Ancelstierran soldier mounted on a horse. Neither looked to be in very good shape and the soldier had lost his weapons. He looked dazed as well, and it took a few barked orders from Major Greene before he found it in himself to respond, explaining that his unit had come upon a contingent of the Dead. 

“They had these great silver…things,” he stuttered out. “Dragging them south. Like half oranges, except huge, and the horses pulling them, dead, all dead…everyone dead…” 

“What way did they take the hemispheres?” Lirael interrupted, trying to get the man to focus.  

The soldier shook his head. “Don’t know…don’t know. They were coming right at us.” 

“They’re already across the wall,” Sabriel said stiffly. “That’s the part we need to concern ourselves…” Her voice trailed off and she tilted her chin up, sensing something else with the sudden wind that picked up.  “There’s a great number of the Dead headed our way. And something…something more powerful.” 

Sam shivered, but not from the wind. “Hedge?” 

“No,” Sabriel murmured. “Chlorr.” 

There was an odd look in her eyes. Lirael could not quite place it at first, but the sight of that expression set a heavy knot of anxiety in her stomach. She looked at Sabriel and swallowed, then looked down to the Dog, who was gazing up at the Abhorsen as well.  

The Disreputable Dog snorted, then promptly bit Sabriel on the leg – not hard, but enough to make Sabriel yelp in surprise.  

“What in the Charter - !” she looked down at the Dog, her eyes wide. “What was that for?” 

“I know that look,” the Dog said, bearing her teeth for a moment before she sat back to scratch her ear. “Don’t be stupid, Abhorsen. You’re still needed. Don’t you dare do anything that would leave Lirael without a mentor.” 

Scowling, but looking a little less distracted, Sabriel leaned over to rub her leg. “Do that again and I swear…” 

“Please be nice,” Lirael said, though it was unclear who the order was directed at. “There’s probably a hundred Dead hands headed our way and we need to prepare.” 

Greene’s nostrils flared. He was eyeing the Disreputable Dog suspiciously, but his soldier’s mind was obviously (and thankfully) focused on the task at hand. “Right, we could push the trucks a little farther south and hope they work, and approach the mill from that way. It’s too far to reach on foot at this point, not if you want to get there in time.” 

“We’re still going to have to hold off at least part of the Dead until the trucks get functioning again,” Sabriel said, not even bothering to hide the tension in her voice. “Which is going to mean potentially facing Chlorr.” 

“Let's cross that bridge when we come to it,” Lirael said quietly and grimily.  

And so they began pushing the trucks south, a difficult but not impossible task. Lirael and the others kept to the front of the group. This proved a good idea as it was not all that long before a solid mass of the Dead came into view. At the very front of the shambling mass of rotted flesh loomed a larger figure, something made of shadow and flame that even at this distance sent out waves of Free Magic. Lirael knew that had to be Chlorr, leading her army forward.  

She also knew that the mechanical weapons the Ancelstierran army wielded would not work, not this close to the hemispheres, and was relieved to see the men producing swords and arrows. Several ranks of soldiers with chainmaille peeking out from under their khaki uniforms fanned out on either side of her and Sabriel. 

When the Dead were still several hundred yards away, Chlorr’s shape suddenly veered to the side, and the ranks of the Dead ceased their advancement. Lirael frowned, looking to the others. “Are they going to flank us?” 

Sam shook his head. “She must be waiting for more of the Dead. Can’t you feel them? There’s a lot more coming up behind these…” 

“A thousand at least,” Sabriel whispered, squinting a little.  

“We don’t have time for this,” Lirael said, a new urgency edging her voice. She knew what had to be done, and looking up at her sister saw that Sabriel did as well. Before the other woman could speak, however, Lirael said, “I’ll go. I’ll take the fight to her.” 

“Lirael - ” 

“No,” she said firmly. Lirael felt an odd certainty come over her. It was a feeling not unlike when she decided to risk her life against the Stilken to protect the library. “No, if the Dead start moving they’ll need you here to help.” And before Sabriel or Sam could stop her, Lirael was striding off, the Disreputable Dog at her heels. 

*** 

Sabriel turned her gaze back to the mass of the Dead. She could feel their presence, which was close and unpleasant, but even worse than that was the gnawing, icy fear that was pulsing in her chest. The truck ride had been the worst, in the dark while Sam and Lirael slept she had nothing to keep her mind from wandering to the worst possibility; that Touchstone might indeed be dead, that if they survived this she would have to deal -   

“Stop it,” she whispered.  

Sam glanced up at her. “Mum?” 

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “It’s…it’s going to be alright. We’re going to fight this.” 

Sam fidgeted, casting another wary glance at the Dead. “Are we? Is there really hope of winning this one?” His voice had taken on an odd tone, and he sounded less like her son than she could ever remember him sounding. 

“I was only a year older than you when I faced Kerrigor,” Sabriel said quietly. “And there was a moment when we were first preparing to fight that I thought how easy it would be to simply take your father and flee south. Past Corvere, out of Ancelstierre. To take a ship across the Sunder Sea to Orleon or somewhere, where we could…I don’t know, live in a townhouse in Ciffel along the river and you and Elli would have gone to a posh boarding school and…And I would have forgotten every horror and tragedy I would face here, next to this same bloody Wall.” 

“So why didn’t you?” Sam asked.  

Sabriel squinted again. “I knew in every fiber of my being that wasn’t an option. Just as now we have no other option but to fight.” She looked at him, and now she wore an odd, hard smile. “The Seven stood against this creature, and we are what remains of them. That has to count for something.” 

She was interrupted by the sound of a bell, and then silence, followed a second later by a strange, inhuman shriek. With that shriek the Dead erupted into chaotic action, running aimlessly in all directions. The soldiers jumped to action as well, emptying volleys of arrows at the Dead hands though in the disorder that did little good. Sabriel stepped forward, drawing Saraneth. Some ways away they could hear Lirael ringing hers as well, and between the two of them the Dead were shortly dispatched, while most of the Ancelstierran soldiers watched in stunned silence. 

Even Sabriel looked surprised. That number of Dead should not have dissipated so quickly, even with two Abhorsens working against them. 

It was to the sudden eruption of cheers that Lirael came jogging back to the others, carrying a very smug looking Mogget in her arms.  

“What happened?” Sam asked. 

Lirael shook her head. “I’m not…sure. Mogget said something to her and she just…fled.” 

"I reminded her how dangerous Abhorsens can be when angry and cornered," Mogget said, hopping down. "She was always overcautious, even when she was an  A- but no matter. This was quicker, was it not?” 

“Yes,” Sabriel agreed. “But this means she’s still out there somewhere…” 

“Which is something you will have to worry about later, Abhorsen,” said the Disreputable Dog. “The Destroyer is here, _now_ , and a much more pressing issue. We really must reach the mill before Hedge does…” 

In a brief moment of hope, the trucks finally revved to life not much further down the road, and at least some chance of reaching the lightning farm in time was once again in their grasp. Once again in the back of a truck, Lirael watched Sam give Mogget a can of sardines before she retreated to a back corner with the Dog. 

“What happens if we don’t get there in time to stop the hemispheres from joining?” Lirael asked her friend quietly.  

The Dog shifted restlessly but did not answer. 

Lirael bit her lip. “I’m going to have to go into Death, aren’t I?” She looked over at Sabriel, who had her head tilted back and eyes closed, either in rest or silent prayer. “And I’ll have to go alone.” 

“No, mistress.” The Dog leaned against her. “Wherever you walk, I will walk with you.” 

*** 

The truck engines failed again some time later. Now when the group piled out of the back, they could see the faint glow of dawn on the eastern horizon. The west was still ominously dark, and what light there was had a feeling of wrongness to it. While everyone took the opportunity to stretch stiff limbs and relieve themselves in a nearby cluster of trees, Sabriel went to talk to Lieutenant Tindall, though she had a pinched expression on her face when she returned. 

“Forwin Loch is on the other side of that ridge,” she said, pointing to a distant hill. 

Lirael looked. While most of the sky was by then taking on a blueish tinge, the area in the direction of the mill remained black.  

“There’s also a large group of Southerlings coming up towards it from the south,” Sabriel added, sounding even less pleased. 

“What?” Sam looked alarmed. “We have to stop them…” 

“It’s more important to stop the hemispheres being joined,” Lirael said, though as the words left her mouth she felt doubt rising in her, and turned her gaze to Sabriel. “Isn’t it?” 

Sabriel nodded grimly. “Unfortunately. More people will die if we do not focus on the Destroyer.” She turned her gaze to the ridge again. “We need to get over there.” 

Without further preamble, she began jogging away from the road, across the slightly muddy valley. Lirael exchanged a look with Sam and started after her sister, the Disreputable Dog at her heels. The soldiers followed a moment later, Greene and Tindall barking orders as they went. Sabriel led the way across the valley, though when they were part way across Lirael looked over and could see the large mass of Southerlings slowly making their way up towards them. 

“Sam!” she said abruptly, realizing how close they would come. “Try to stop them, alright? Then catch up to us.” 

Sam split off and started towards the crowd. Lirael picked up her pace, catching up with Sabriel as she was starting to climb the ridge. Then, all too abruptly, they found themselves at the top, looking down at the desolate barren stretch that was Nick’s lightning farm. Lirael saw hundreds of metal rods sprouting up from the cleared ground, connected by parallel wires and looking for all the world like some type of bizarre plant. 

“One of the hemispheres is already on the quay,” Sabriel said, voice filled with dread as she gazed into the distance, out at the dark mass of the loch. “Hedge is down there. And hundreds of the Dead.” 

Lirael felt cold; both from the sense of the Dead and the realization of what was happening. For a brief moment she saw Sabriel’s hand rest on Astarael, then fall. Lirael took a deep breath, let it out and said, “It’s not over yet, we can still…” Her voice trailed off and she looked down at the Disreputable Dog for confirmation. 

Her friend nodded. “Yes, but not here. Lets move back down the valley.” 

“You’re going into Death,” Sabriel said as they started back towards the others. “To use the dark mirror.” 

Lirael nodded, fighting back the urge to ask – to beg – Sabriel to come with her. “The Dead will come over the ridge to attack,” she said. “You’ll be of more use helping fend them off.” 

“And protecting your body,” Sabriel added. 

They had reached Sam and the officers by then, and Sam turned to look at them. “What’s going on?” 

Lirael took a deep breath and waited until Major Greene and the others were listening as well. “It’s too late to stop the hemispheres from coming together,” she said gravely. “But we may have another option; I will go into Death to find out exactly what that option is. In the meantime, Sabriel will remain here to help you all hold back the Dead.” 

The others stared at her in dull surprise for a moment, then they each nodded slowly. Lirael turned to look at her sister. She hoped her expression was one of confidence, but either way Sabriel gave her a look that was part encouragement, and part sympathy.  

“I will see you soon,” Lirael said firmly, summoning all her strength before she stepped into Death. 

*** 

Sabriel’s Death sense twitched as she watched frost rime Lirael’s body. Beside her, Sam shifted uneasily. “I don’t suppose you saw any sign of Nick?” he asked. 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Sabriel said, shaking her head. “Nothing yet.” 

Sam sighed heavily. They both looked up when a soldier came running over to their group, saluting his officers. “Movement on the ridge, the refugees…” 

He trailed off; they could all see that the Southerlings were on their feet again, despite having stopped at Sam’s request. Now they were heading towards the ridge, at the same time that Sam and Sabriel both felt a sense of impending Dead. 

“If they go over that ridge they’ll be killed,” Sabriel said. “And then there will be even more Dead to deal with.” She looked at Sam for only a split second before they both took off jogging towards the Southerlings.  

Sam noticed a group at the front that he hadn’t seen before, mostly young men and one very old woman who had to be the matriarch of the whole group of refugees, judging by the way all the others seemed to be looking to her. Old as she was her eyes were bright, and she spotted Sam and Sabriel as they approached. 

“ _Malika_ ,” Sabriel called out. 

The old woman stopped then, turning to look at her with faint surprise showing in her expression. It took Sam a moment to recognize the word his mother had called out to be a title, rather than a name. 

When Sabriel reached the old woman she put her left hand to her chest, holding out her right. “Only death awaits you over that ridge,” she said. “You must turn back.” Then, noting that one of the young men was acting as translator for the old woman, Sabriel added, “I am Queen Sabriel, my kingdom lies north of here, across the wall. Please, there is a grave danger you must listen to me…” 

The old woman pondered that for a moment, then reached out to take Sabriel’s hand and squeeze it gently. Through her translator she said, “Your majesty. We were promised land, and told…” She gestured, and the young man produced a brightly colored flyer from somewhere, which he handed to Sabriel. “…And told that we must present ourselves at the mill…” 

Sabriel frowned when she saw the flyer. “This is fake, it is a trap and all of your people will be killed if you go there.” 

“But where will we go?” the woman asked. 

Lightning flashed again. Sabriel glanced towards the ridge, her mind racing. “I will give you land,” she said suddenly. “In my kingdom. Good land. But you must take your people back the way you came, to safety…” 

“You swear it?” the matron asked. “On your blood?” 

“On my blood,” Sabriel said, holding out her hand once again, palm up. 

The matriarch pricked her palm with the tip of a small knife, then did the same to Sabriel’s before they clasped hands once again. Sabriel waited until it was just long enough to be considered polite before letting go and shouting, “Go, _go_!” 

Sam had already started sprinting back to Lirael. When Sabriel caught up to him, the sense of the Dead had increased immensely, though she still could not see them. All she could see was the young man that Lieutenant Tindall was helping to his feet. 

“He’s a friend of Nick’s,” Sam said a bit numbly, looking at his mother. “He said Nick’s at the lightning farm, but he’s not - ” 

He was interrupted by Major Greene’s bellow of “Here they come! Stand ready!” 

The first of the Dead had appeared over the ride. At once the soldiers flocked into formation, with Lirael’s frozen form at the very center. Sabriel elbowed her way through them so that she was at the front of the group by the time the Dead arrived. She drew Saraneth – and flipped it straight up in the air. The bell tumbled end over end, its call ringing out across the ridge and the valley. Sabriel swiftly drew her sword and caught Saraneth in one smooth motion. The Dead came to an abrupt stop. 

“Fire!” Major Greene bellowed. Arrows arched over Sabriel’s head to strike the immobilized dead, sending many back into Death. 

Even with the Abhorsen’s assistance, the battle lines could not be held for long, and soon the battlefield broke into a chaotic frenzy. Sabriel could see Charter spells, no doubt from Sam, striking the Dead, and the soldiers using bayonets and bayonets. But still Sabriel could sense more Dead coming. 

Then Sam shouted, “Mom! Shadow hands!” 

Sabriel spun around and could see shapes of pure darkness rounding the ridge. “Sam!” she said as she started towards them. “Do you still have the pan pipes? I’m going to need your help!” 

Sam was beside her in an instant, “Which…?” 

“Kibeth,” Sabriel said. “While I ring Saraneth. You will need to focus on all of them at once – ready?”  

She began to ring Saraneth, its voice booming out once again. Sam hesitated only a second before lowering his lips to Kibeth. The Walker’s jig-like tune wove in with Saraneth, creating a powerful song of binding and banishing. For almost too long nothing happened, then all of the Dead who heard it froze, then began to walk either jerking back into Death or turning to flee. 

As the last peels of the bell began to die away, Sabriel caught another sound; a faint, whistled Charter spell. She frowned then turned to see two paperwings landing back down in the valley by the mass of Southerlings. One was the green and silver of the Clayr, the other gold and red. Ellimere had just climbed out of the second one, Sabriel could see, followed shortly by –  

Before Sam even saw what had happened, Sabriel was sprinting down the side of the ridge. She did not stop, not until she reached the paperwings where she threw herself into Touchstone’s arms. He in turn wordlessly wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her. It was hard to say how long they stood that way, but finally Sabriel drew back, looking at Touchstone with wide eyes. 

“They said you had been killed,” she whispered. 

Touchstone reached up to brush away the tears Sabriel hadn’t even realized were running down her cheeks. “Damed was,” he said quietly. “And far too many others. But I survived.” 

Sabriel nodded, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “You aren’t allowed to go when I cannot walk with you.” Giving him a soft kiss, she turned finally to their daughter, who had been patiently waiting nearby. “Elli…” 

“Mother.” Ellimere hugged her tightly as well. “I missed you…are you alright? Is Sam alright?” 

“Sam is back that way,” Sabriel said, already tugging them to follow her. “He’s guarding Lirael…” 

“That would be your long-lost sister?” Touchstone said. 

Sabriel nodded, then froze; they had just reached the ridge when she felt the abrupt, distinct feeling of someone dying nearby. Her heart jumped into her throat – there was Lirael, but Sam…? Finally she spotted him, crouched over something lying on the ground. 

“Mom!” When Sam looked up he had tears running down his face, his expression stricken. “Mom, help! Please…” 

“Oh no…” Touchstone murmured. He too had noticed what was lying on the ground before Sam: the unmoving form of Nicholas Sayre. 

Numbly Sabriel knelt by them and put her hands on the boys cooling cheeks. She shook her head. “Sam, I’m sorry…” 

“You have to bring him back!” Sam sobbed. “Mom, you have to!” 

But all Sabriel did was reach out, closing Nick’s eyes. A tear ran down her cheek when she blinked. She had known this boy since he was five, since he and Sam were little, and now here he lay, dead, and there was nothing she could do. They had promised to bring him home, and they had failed. 

Before Sam could reply there came the sound of cracking ice behind them. Wiping a hand over her eyes, Sabriel looked over to see Lirael coming out of Death. The young woman’s face was set in a grim expression as she approached them. “I know what we must do,” she said, then hesitated a second as her gaze drifted to Nick’s lifeless body. She gave herself a shake. “We don’t have much time. Sam?” 

Sam did not say anything. He looked down at Nick again. 

“Sam,” Sabriel said, and she grabbed her son – gently – and hauled him to his feet. “Sameth, look at me. Deal with this grief later. Nick would not want you to spend this time uselessly staring at his body and not doing anything.” 

“Yeah,” Sam whispered. He took a deep breath, then looked at Lirael. “What do you need me to do?” 

In response, Lirael drew Nehima and handed the sword to him. She looked down the side of the ridge at the others, expression calculating. “I need you to collect drops of blood from everyone and bind them into the metal of the sword, then send them all up here to help us cast diamonds of protection, we’ll need three.” 

Sam nodded, steeling himself before he hurried down to his father, sister, and the Clayr.  

For a brief moment, Lirael looked down at Nick again, until she felt Sabriel’s hand on her shoulder. “What are we going to do?” Sabriel asked.  

“We’re going to bind it,” Lirael said. “We're going to bind the Destroyer." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the ending is a bit abrupt, but my goal with this story was to provide an alternate canon and I realized that at this point there would be almost insignificant difference from the book. So I will leave it here to the ending we're all familiar with, and say a big thank you to everyone who has followed along with this story!


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